


Memento Mei

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Arranged Marriage, Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, NHEV, No Happy Ending Fest, POV Alternating, Sexual Content, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29462577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Baekhyun's heart would break every day if only he could remember yesterday.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69
Collections: No Happy Ending Fest - 2020





	Memento Mei

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** R5-206  
>  **Prompt:** Chanyeol is a wicked cheater. Good thing his husband Baekhyun is an amnesiac, huh?  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Chanyeol/Baekhyun  
>  **Side Characters(if any):** Sehun, Suho, D.O., Chen  
>  **Word Count:** 23.8k  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** Arranged Marriage, Infidelity, Cheating, Amnesia, Sexual Content  
>  **Author's note:** To the mods, thank you for your usual kindness and understanding. To A, thank you for always reminding me why I love to write. To the prompter, thank you for such a heartbreaking prompt - I hope this story gives it justice. And to you, dear reader, thank you for giving this a chance.
> 
> For context, the story is set in the fictional port city of _Hanggu_ in Korea. Other places mentioned are fictional as well.
> 
> I hope this isn't as bad as I think it is and I hope you all enjoy reading this! (I'll go into hiding now.)

#  **Chapter One**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

Chanyeol’s nightmares always began the same way.

He was driving somewhere. It was pitch black outside, and he could hardly see the road as he drove — rain poured down in heavy sheets, the wipers barely making a difference as water continued to flow thickly down the windshield. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were starting to turn white. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, very similar to the sensation one gets when dropping from a great height like in a rollercoaster. Each breath he took was shorter and thinner than the last as though something was squeezing the air out of his lungs.

He was angry. But he couldn’t remember why.

And then, out of nowhere, a blinding light came hurtling from Chanyeol’s side. There was a sickening crunch, the sound of glass shattering and metal crumpling, and then rubber skidding on the asphalt for what felt like miles on end.

When the darkness took him in his nightmare, Chanyeol woke up.

At first, he thought he was at home. But then he realised that he was naked under the sheets, and beside him was someone he had no good reason to be naked with.

 _Oh, that’s right,_ he told himself when he finally remembered. _I don’t come home on Fridays._

Chanyeol stood up, the sheets falling from his body, and then he began picking his clothes up from the carpeted floor. He was halfway through getting dressed when the person he’d been sharing a bed with stirred from sleep.

“You’re up early,” the man said, yawning. When Chanyeol ignored him, he asked, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Chanyeol said curtly as he fastened his belt.

“It’s 2 a.m. Can’t you stay for the night?”

Chanyeol ignored him yet again. He walked towards the loveseat in the corner and collected the rest of his things while the man sat up on the bed.

“Fine. Leave if you want to, but… I’ll be seeing you again, right?”

The absurdity of the question made Chanyeol pause to look at him. The answer should’ve been crystal clear by now. “Not likely,” Chanyeol replied.

Chanyeol was nearly at the door when the man called out, “Do you even remember my name?”

“No,” Chanyeol admitted almost immediately.

And to be honest, he had no intention of remembering. Chanyeol left the room before his one-night stand could reply, his name lost along with the other things Chanyeol didn’t want to remember.

***

Naturally, Chanyeol heard an earful from Junmyeon the following week. Chanyeol has gotten used to it. Junmyeon was always like this whenever he learned that Chanyeol had spent another Friday night in someone else’s bed.

“Do you not feel bad for Baekhyun at all?” Junmyeon asked. Chanyeol has heard this rhetorical question perhaps a million times already. “That poor guy. He has no idea.”

Chanyeol had no difficulty in letting Junmyeon’s scolding in one ear and immediately out the other. For starters, Junmyeon didn’t have a wedding band on his finger, and Chanyeol was too proud to take marriage advice from someone who was unmarried.

Secondly, it didn’t matter who he spends his Friday nights with. Even if his husband found out today, he’d forget about it by tomorrow (which has, in fact, happened very recently).

“Jesus, Junmyeon,” Sehun groaned from his desk. “Would you give it up already? Baekhyun’s a lost cause. Cut Chanyeol some slack. Let him have some fun.”

Junmyeon scoffed. “ _Fun_ ,” he repeated, clearly disgusted by Sehun’s choice of words. “Marriage isn’t about fun. It’s about honesty. Loyalty. Tru—”

“—and that’s why you’re not married,” Sehun quipped, cutting Junmyeon off.

Chanyeol’s lips curled into a small smile as Junmyeon rolled his eyes at them and walked away carrying thick wads of documents to make himself seem busy.

“That was harsh, you know,” Chanyeol said once Junmyeon was out of earshot.

Sehun shrugged. “He deserved it. Always meddling in your business. I’m getting sick of it and I’m not even the one he’s always telling off!”

But Chanyeol knew that Sehun’s teasing hit where it hurt most for Junmyeon.

Junmyeon had been pining for Sehun since the three of them were in university. Sehun, being the oblivious idiot that he was, still had absolutely no idea years and years later.

Chanyeol had no interest in setting his two friends up, partly because he was horrible at playing matchmaker, but mostly because he really didn’t like concerning himself with other people’s problems. He had enough problems of his own to last him three lifetimes.

“Wedding anniversary coming up,” Sehun said absentmindedly while going through documents in his in-tray. “Where are you celebrating?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Chanyeol lied. The truth was, it completely slipped his mind until Sehun told him just now. “The lake house, probably. He always likes it there. Plus, we go there every year.”

Sehun hummed thoughtfully. “How long has it been?”

“It’s our fifth this year.”

That made Sehun pause for a moment. “Five. Wow. _Wow_ …” Chanyeol couldn’t tell whether he was genuinely amazed or was just teasing. “It mustn’t have been easy for you, taking care of him.”

Sehun was right, of course. It hadn’t been easy — for Chanyeol, for Baekhyun, for pretty much everybody else. But even if Baekhyun never had his accident a little over a year ago, from the start, their marriage was the farthest thing from easy. Chanyeol doubted that Baekhyun wanted this marriage any more than he did. They were, after all, only forced into it by their families.

Chanyeol’s conscience (what was left of it, anyway) reminded him that the circumstances of their marriage, or the fact that Baekhyun was the way he was right now, was no excuse for him to continue living the life of a bachelor when he wasn’t.

But before Chanyeol could decide whether the unpleasant tingling in his chest right now was a manifestation of his long overdue guilt, an unexpected visitor walked into their office.

Chanyeol stood up at once. “Dad.”

Mr. Park looked a lot like his son, only much older and a couple of inches shorter. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed back, not a loose strand in view. Despite wearing casual clothes, he still exuded an aura of authority, even if it had been years since he stepped down from the company.

“Can I borrow my son for lunch, Sehun?” Mr. Park asked kindly.

Sehun smiled at the former CEO. “By all means, sir.”

Chanyeol was the only one who had his lips pressed into a thin line. He never liked his father’s lunch visits because, 1) his father’s idea of lunch was no more than a microwaved packed sandwich from the convenience store downstairs (nothing teaches businessmen humility better than convenience store food, his father would always say), and 2) lunches with his father almost always meant that Chanyeol would be having a side dish of bad news.

The last time his father invited him for lunch, it was to break to him that he and his mother were set to begin divorce proceedings. The only thing that Chanyeol found comfort in right now was that no news could be worse than that, but he still didn’t get his hopes up. His father always found a way to disappoint him one way or another.

Chanyeol had barely touched his soggy kani sandwich that tasted nothing like crab sticks when his father placed his arms on the table, crossing his fingers in front of him. They were seated in one of the small plastic tables outside the convenience store, the noise of the busy avenue filling the dead air between them. Chanyeol could tell by the quivering of his father’s pupils that whatever was about to leave his lips wasn’t good.

“Well?” Chanyeol prompted, impatient for his father to get on with it.

“Er, right…” His father cleared his throat. “We have decided to move to Paris. We figured it would be best for us — for everyone, really — to have a fresh sta—”

“When?” Chanyeol interrupted him. Blood was rising to his head, though Chanyeol wasn’t sure if it was because of the midday heat or because of his anger.

Mr. Park frowned. “Sometime next week,” he replied. “We haven’t arranged our plane tickets, but we’re aiming for Saturday, at the latest.”

“And by _we_ , you mean that… that _woman_ and you?”

His father’s jaw tightened. Chanyeol knew he’d hit a sore spot, but quite frankly, he didn’t care. “Do not talk about your mother in that tone,” Mr. Park said as calmly as possible.

Chanyeol scoffed. “Yeojeong is _not_ my mother.”

“Stepmother, then,” Mr. Park corrected himself. “Listen,” he said with a sigh, “I think it would be best if I spent the remaining days of my life somewhere where I am not the most hated man. There is nothing left for me here.”

“Your son’s still here,” Chanyeol muttered under his breath.

Of course, Mr. Park heard him anyway. “I could have worded that better, but you get what I mean,” he said gently. “Besides, you are a grown man. You do not need me anymore. You have a life here — you have Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol fought the urge to scoff once more. Sure, he had Baekhyun, but that was only because his father needed the strings that Baekhyun’s father had the ability to pull. Assemblyman Byun’s political clout had gotten their company out of sticky situations more times than anyone could count, and Chanyeol doubted his father wanted that to change anytime soon.

“How is he?” Mr. Park asked when Chanyeol remained silent. “Baekhyun, I mean. I do apologise if I have not paid a visit to you and my son-in-law in your home. We will make time before we leave for Paris, I promise.”

Chanyeol had enough of his father’s useless promises but decided at the last second not to comment on that. “He’s fine,” he said dismissively. “I’m thinking of bringing him to the lake house for our fifth anniversary.”

“Yes, yes. That would be nice…” Mr. Park said. “I do hope, son, that your marriage is doing better than mine and your mother’s.”

“I personally think any marriage is better than the one the two of you had.”

Mr. Park let out a faint chuck despite his son’s biting remark. “You are probably right,” he nodded. “Be good to him, would you? Baekhyun has been through a lot, that poor child…”

And there it was again, the strange sting spreading around Chanyeol’s heart.

He _was_ good to Baekhyun… Well, aside from his Friday night endeavours. But Baekhyun didn’t know about that, nor was Chanyeol keen on letting him know. And honestly, wasn’t it better for Baekhyun to remain blissfully ignorant? What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, and it was still painfully fresh in Chanyeol’s mind what had happened the first time Baekhyun found out.

He had nightmares about it almost every night.

****

* * *

****

**_BAEKHYUN_ **

****

Baekhyun didn’t remember what happened before he opened his eyes that morning.

There was a dull throb at the back of his head, like the beginning of a horrible headache. He stared at the white ceiling as the alarm on his phone blared and effectively hammered the sleep out of his consciousness.

He rolled to his side and tapped the screen of his phone to stop the godawful sound. When he finally sat up and stretched, his bones let out faint, satisfying cracks as they settled into place. He was ready to start his day.

Baekhyun looked around. He knew for a fact that this was his room, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. His lips tugged downward as he tried to remember yesterday.

 _That’s odd_ , he thought to himself when he came up blank. He tried harder. And harder. And harder. But every time he came close to being certain, the memories slipped from his grasp and fluttered away.

The last thing he recalled was driving somewhere. It was night-time, and it was storming. If he ever made it to his destination, he wasn’t sure. What he _was_ sure of was that it didn’t happen yesterday.

Baekhyun decided to get out of bed before he gave himself a migraine thinking about it.

On the nightstand where his phone sat, a sheet of paper scribbled with black, harsh ink was waiting for him. Not many things made sense after he woke up, but a warm wave of familiarity washed over him when his eyes fell on the note. He could recognise the handwriting anywhere. It was his husband’s — it was Chanyeol’s.

He picked up the letter and began to read.

> _Today you have a piano lesson with a kid named Jeon Jinseo. His mom will bring him here. Someone obnoxiously loud will drop by later. That’s Jongdae. I already made you breakfast before I left for work. Always keep your phone close. I love you, you amnesiac._
> 
> _— Chanyeol_

_Amnesiac?_

Baekhyun furrowed his brows. That would explain why he couldn’t remember anything after that late-night drive… But how did it happen? _When_ did it happen? How many days have passed by without him remembering a single thing?

He stared at the note again. The kid’s name didn’t ring a bell, but the name Jongdae did. Bits and pieces of memories flooded Baekhyun’s mind like the rugged shapes and peculiar colours in a kaleidoscope. Expressive brows. A sweet singing voice. The taste of beef noodle soup after a night of drinking.

Baekhyun padded towards the bathroom to wash the sleep off his body. Of course, he knew what he looked like, but when he saw his hair in the mirror, he froze. It wasn’t because he had a bad case of bedhead (although that was an eyesore on its own), but because it was a different colour than the one he remembered having. He could’ve sworn that it had been black. Now it was dyed a light strawberry blond, the strands rough from having been bleached, tufts sticking out in every direction.

Baekhyun’s head hurt from not remembering. He frowned at himself in the mirror. Even after spending half an hour in the shower, the frown on his face didn’t rinse off.

At 10:00 a.m., a soft _ding dong_ echoed throughout the house.

Baekhyun answered the door and was greeted by a woman and a young boy. Baekhyun didn’t know them, or rather, he didn’t remember knowing them. But the lightness he felt in his heart when he saw them reassured him that this wasn’t their first time meeting. Maybe that was why he returned their smiles so easily.

“Hello,” said Baekhyun. “You must be Jinseo.” He turned to the woman beside the kid. “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon.”

The kid’s smile grew wider. He looked about thirteen or fourteen but was already almost as tall as Baekhyun. “You remember?”

 _Well, no, not really_ , Baekhyun wanted to say, but before he could respond, the mother chastised her son.

“Jinseo, don’t be rude,” she said, though Baekhyun couldn’t understand why.

Was it offensive to ask someone who had amnesia if they remembered? Baekhyun surely wasn’t offended. He just felt… sad. Regretful. He wished he had something to hold onto the same way other people had memories of him. He felt helpless.

Mrs. Jeon looked at Baekhyun, an apologetic smile on her face. “Let me know if he causes any trouble. My number’s saved on your phone.”

Baekhyun nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed her son goodbye, walked back to her car, and then she was gone.

The boy entered the house as if it were his. After trading his white sneakers for a pair of house slippers, Jinseo walked straight into a room at the far end of the first floor. Baekhyun couldn’t do anything but follow.

The room Jinseo made a beeline for was a studio. At least, that was what it looked like to Baekhyun. There was an assortment of instruments lined up against the walls: a variety of guitars, a bass or two, and some weird-looking keyboards that Baekhyun didn’t know the name for. In a corner sat a desktop with three screens, attached to various equipment.

In the middle of it all was a grand piano made of polished dark wood, its surface so lustrous that it gleamed in the sunlight pouring from the windows.

Baekhyun only realised that Jinseo was waiting for him on the bench when the boy cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun muttered. He sat beside Jinseo.

But the kid only smiled kindly. “S’okay. You do that every day.”

_Every day._

How was it possible for him to do something every day and yet remember none of it?

Baekhyun tried his best not to show his frustration. He _hated_ not remembering. He felt confused and lost and angry, though he wasn’t sure as to who or what he was angry at.

“Where are we? With your lessons, I mean,” Baekhyun asked to steer his mind somewhere else.

“We’re quite far in Invention 8.”

The corners of Baekhyun’s lips curled up. “Ah, Bach. I believe we’re working on your finger dexterity.” He didn’t know _how_ he knew that; he just did. He positioned his hands above the ivories, his fingertips barely grazing the keys. Then he started playing.

It surprised Baekhyun how he didn’t need to look at the sheet music. The notes came naturally to him, his two hands operating like a well-oiled machine, and the room was filled with an upbeat, almost mischievous melody. He poured his heart into the song, and while it didn’t completely ease the pain he felt for forgetting and not being able to do anything about it, it did somewhat make him feel better.

When he was done, Jinseo looked at him in awe and told him, “I can’t play it that fast yet.”

Baekhyun smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. “The Inventions aren’t about speed, they’re about accuracy. Come on, HT on slow tempo.” When Jinseo started whining the second he heard _HT_ , Baekhyun reminded him, “The Inventions aren’t just finger exercises. They give you a foretaste of composition. It’s better if you hear both hands together.”

Jinseo finally agreed, but not without a pout. The kid began playing. He wasn’t as fast as Baekhyun was, but the tune was mostly correct. Baekhyun watched him play while the boy’s eyes burned with concentration and his fingers created music, and by the end of the lesson, Baekhyun was beaming with pride.

Mrs. Jeon picked up Jinseo about two hours later. Baekhyun couldn’t believe that he’d grown fond of the kid in such a short period of time. Then again, Baekhyun _did_ already know him. He just didn’t remember.

As he watched their car drive away, a heaviness settled on Baekhyun’s chest.

He would forget Jinseo by tomorrow, like every other memory of today.

***

When the third reminder of the day popped up on the screen of his phone, Baekhyun finally understood why Chanyeol had told him to keep his phone close at all times.

It buzzed every other hour or so, reminding him of random things.

> _A package will arrive sometime this afternoon. It’s from your mom._
> 
> _If Taemin comes over and asks to borrow something, just tell them you forgot where it is. He never returns stuff._
> 
> _Feed Parrot. Two sprinkles from the bottle of feed should do it._

That last one was particularly perplexing because there was no parrot — or any other bird — in the house as far as Baekhyun could tell. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be no other living thing in the house save for Baekhyun and a few potted plants.

Then Baekhyun finally noticed it in a sad little corner of the living room: a small rectangular tank with a single fish swimming in it, easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there.

The fish had long and wide fins that moved like silk as it swam. It was a beautiful black colour, and its scales turned a deep shade of purple and blue when the light hit it just right. On the top right corner of the tank was a label: _Parrot_.

“What a stupid name for a fish,” Baekhyun said out loud, even if no one could hear him. But he liked it. It was unique, and certainly unexpected. He made a mental note to ask his husband later why they named their fish Parrot.

At 7 p.m., the doorbell rang once again.

Baekhyun hurriedly went to get the door, eager to have someone else to talk to. It was getting lonely, having no one else in the house with him, and he was certainly not going to talk to some fish like he was in a silly little Disney movie.

He had no trouble putting a name to the face that greeted him when he opened the door. Jongdae stood there with a wide grin spread across his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischievous delight.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

But Baekhyun only frowned, as he had no idea what Jongdae was on about. “Go… where?”

“Oh, dear,” Jongdae said, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Sorry. Forgot you’re more forgetful than me now.” When he had composed himself again, he said excitedly, “It’s Friday. We go out on Fridays.”

“Why?” Baekhyun’s eyebrows were still scrunched together.

Jongdae rolled his eyes at him and let himself into the house without Baekhyun inviting him. Everyone seemed to be comfortable in the house except Baekhyun.

“You’re exceptionally curious today,” Jongdae commented. He plopped onto the sofa and propped his feet onto the wooden coffee table as if the living room were his own. “Just get dressed and ask questions later. I’ve been craving barbecue all week and you have no idea how much I’ve looked forward to our date today.”

Baekhyun hurried upstairs, briefly consulted his phone to check the weather forecast for the night and got dressed accordingly. He had barely put on his shoes when Jongdae whisked him out the door and into the night.

***

Jongdae was exactly how Baekhyun remembered him.

He still had quite the appetite, and he was talkative as ever. They’ve only just begun their second helpings of barbecue (beef, this time) when Jongdae finished retelling basically the entirety of their college life. Baekhyun was thankful that Jongdae just kept on talking and talking, because he wasn’t feeling very chatty himself.

Jongdae noticed this, too. “You’re quiet,” he said.

“Am I?” Baekhyun frowned. “I’m not usually as loud as you, though.”

“No,” Jongdae said, his mouth breaking into another grin, “you’re worse.”

That made Baekhyun laugh, the first time all day. Jongdae went on and on with more funny anecdotes about Baekhyun’s pre-amnesia life: that time when they tricked Kyungsoo (another friend of theirs) into thinking he had a secret admirer, the godawful spicy stir-fried rice cakes they had one time that had them glued to the toilet all weekend, the summer after senior year they spent doing community service on campus because of an especially nasty senior prank they did with their batchmates.

Baekhyun wasn’t sure if Jongdae knew this, but he could remember all the stories Jongdae had just shared with him. The memories of them were a bit fuzzy, like Baekhyun was watching them from an old TV, but he remembered them nonetheless. What he couldn’t remember was what happened after that drive he took; it was as though whoever was writing the book of his life had stopped abruptly at that scene and hadn’t bothered to continue. Then he began to wonder if Jongdae always recounted stories from before that to him every Friday night. If Jongdae did, Baekhyun sure hoped that he would never get tired of it.

Then it occurred to Baekhyun… “Jongdae, why do we go out every Friday?” he asked. Their Friday night outs were among the things that didn’t make sense to Baekhyun because he couldn’t remember them doing these before.

“Chanyeol doesn’t come home on Fridays,” Jongdae said casually while his mouth was still full of marinated beef. “Told me to keep you company.”

Baekhyun’s stomach lurched for some weird reason. Suddenly, the grilled dinner they were having didn’t look so appetising. “Why?”

Baekhyun thought he was imagining things, but for a split second, panic flashed in Jongdae’s eyes. “Dunno,” said Jongdae quickly — too quickly that it almost sounded like he was lying. “I never did get to ask him… Anyway, it must have something to do with his work. I’m sure he wouldn’t leave you all alone in that house if it weren’t important given your, um, situation.”

Baekhyun nodded. He understood how work was very important for Chanyeol. At the same time, however, he knew something was wrong. He just couldn’t put a finger on it…

“Anyway,” Jongdae clearly eager to change the subject, “how did your day go?”

Baekhyun was unsure how to respond, so he said, “Ah, you know. Same old same old,” even if he wasn’t really sure what his ‘old’ was. “The kid I teach piano…”

“Jinseo.”

“Right. How long have I been teaching him?”

Jongdae thought for a moment. “Hmm. Maybe about a few months since you left the hospital? So, it’s about… ten months now? Your doctor suggested it, those piano lessons. I’m sure there’s some scientific explanation for that, but I wasn’t really paying attention when Chanyeol explained it to me. The gist of it is that having a routine helps you.”

Ten months. Baekhyun had been spending time with that sweet kid two hours a day for ten months and he remembered none of it. His heart sank to his feet.

“What do you mean ‘since I left the hospital’?” asked Baekhyun. “What happened to me?”

Jongdae stopped chewing. He averted his eyes as though Baekhyun had just asked an embarrassing question. He pursed his lips, and for the first time since the night began, he looked like he was not willing to give Baekhyun information.

“Car accident,” Jongdae said with such finality that Baekhyun knew there was no point in asking more questions.

Baekhyun nodded, took a sip of his beer, and the rest of their dinner held much less laughter than when they started.

***

Baekhyun’s head was buzzing when he got home that night.

He’d always been a lightweight but the ringing in his ears and the numbness in his head weren’t because of the alcohol, but because of the questions he had.

That was all his day felt like: just one big question, and no one came close to giving him an answer he was satisfied with.

Now he knew that his memory problems came from a car accident… but why was Jongdae apprehensive to tell him more? He knew that Jongdae took him out once a week because Chanyeol didn’t come home on Fridays… but where was his husband going off to in the first place? And why was the stupid fish named Parrot?

Baekhyun felt like his head was splitting open. Utterly defeated, he hopped into the shower, let the warm water wash over him until the pads of his fingers had shrivelled up, and then got ready for bed. He sat on the mattress and painfully thought about how he wouldn’t remember anything that happened today when he woke up.

And then, like muscle memory, Baekhyun reached down to the bottommost drawer of his nightstand and pulled it open. It was full of notebooks, about a dozen or so old ones, all piled up together. He’d been keeping journals since he and Chanyeol moved into the house, writing on them almost every night. He couldn’t believe that he just remembered now, but then again, his head has been hurting all day. He grabbed the yellow spiral notebook on top of all the others and flipped through its pages.

His familiar messy handwriting greeted him as he opened the diary. On every turn of a page there was a list of different dates, followed by what looked like a brief description of what happened on that day.

> _April 4th — I became a piano teacher. Jinseo’s quite a talented kid, but he seems to doubt himself a lot. He reminds me of my younger self._
> 
> _July 1st — I tried to stay awake for as long as I could because I didn’t want to forget. But Chanyeol came home drunk and got mad when he saw me still up. We must’ve had a fight yesterday or something, because he was in a terribly sour mood even before he saw me, but I can’t remember…_
> 
> _December 6th — Chanyeol was home the whole day and helped me decorate the house for Christmas. He bought blue ornaments for the tree, and I loved how it turned out because blue’s my favourite colour. He hugged me while I was doing the dishes and then we kissed and… Needless to say, it was a good day._

Baekhyun blushed furiously at that last entry, but he immediately felt stupid about it when he realised how childish it was. _Of course, we’d do things like that,_ he told himself, _he’s my husband for Christ’s sake…_

He kept on reading and reading, a gentle warmth spreading throughout his body as he learned about the days he didn’t remember in his own words.

But as he read on, the scribbles became harsher and harsher, like they were written in haste, and the events started to become a lot like the one dated July 1st he’d read just moments ago.

> _December 19th — Chanyeol’s phone rang while he was in the shower. It was just a number, so I didn’t know who it was. When I told them it was his husband speaking, they dropped the call. Curious…_
> 
> _December 24th — Bad day. Chanyeol told me he won’t be home tomorrow, and I got mad because, well, it’s Christmas. Horrible fight. He stormed out. I guess I’ll be spending Christmas all alone._
> 
> _January 1st — Went out with Jongdae. Drank in one of those little tents in the back streets. I only drank a little, but Jongdae had way too much. He said something horrible… that Chanyeol is cheating on me..._

Baekhyun felt as though his heart just exploded in his chest. His entire body went numb from the sudden pain that shot out from his chest, tears starting to pool in his eyes. He stared at the notebook, absolutely horrified. A stray tear found its way onto the page and smudged the ink that the word January was now missing a couple of letters. With trembling hands, he reached for the pen on the nightstand, flipped the notebook to the next available page, and wrote five simple words after today’s date, February 12th.

He shut the notebook and threw it back with all the other ones, slamming the drawer so hard that it nearly toppled the lamp sitting on the nightstand.

Still shivering from what he’d just found out, he laid down, forced his eyes shut, and willed himself to sleep despite the tears uncontrollably streaming down his cheeks. When his sobs had subdued into quiet whimpers, Baekhyun had only one thought before he finally went under: he was thankful that we wouldn’t remember any of that the following day.

#  **Chapter Two**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

Chanyeol opened his eyes to a pair of bloodshot ones staring back at him.

Baekhyun was lying on his side, hand tucked under his chin, looking curiously at his husband. Dark circles sat heavily under his eyes. There was a slight crease on his forehead, just the tiniest sign of anger that Chanyeol would’ve missed completely if not for the reason that Baekhyun’s face was the first thing Chanyeol saw in the morning almost every day for nearly five years.

“Didn’t sleep well?” asked Chanyeol, but it was less of a question and more of a statement. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes with the back of his hands and yawned widely.

“No,” Baekhyun admitted. “What time did you get home?”

Whatever drowsiness Chanyeol felt was immediately replaced with a cold wave of panic. He sat up on the bed. “Did I wake you? When I came in?”

“Yes. What time did you get home?” repeated Baekhyun. The tone of his husband’s voice told Chanyeol that he hadn’t slept since and was trying to catch him in a lie.

Chanyeol decided that there was no point in lying. The evil part of his subconscious reminded him that Baekhyun would forget by tomorrow. “I’m not sure, but… the sun was about to come up then, I think.”

“Were you out drinking?”

“Well… yes.” It was the truth, though it was only the half of it. But Chanyeol doubted that Baekhyun would appreciate knowing that he was at a hotel downtown with someone _before_ he went drinking alone. “What’s with you?” Chanyeol asked as he let out a nervous chuckle, trying his best to steer the conversation into a different direction before Baekhyun asked any more difficult questions. “Had a bad dream?”

The crease in Baekhyun’s forehead grew smaller, but only just. “No… I woke up in a bad mood, though. Can’t remember why…”

Chanyeol forced himself a small smile. “Well… You try hard to remember, and I…” he bent down and planted a soft kiss on Baekhyun’s forehead, “...will go and make breakfast.”

“But… don’t you have work?”

Chanyeol suppressed a smile. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh. Oh, right,” said Baekhyun, as Chanyeol leaned forward to kiss him again — this time on the lips — and then ruffled his bleached hair before standing up and leaving their bedroom.

Baekhyun’s bad mood continued throughout the day. He was uncharacteristically quiet, Chanyeol thought. On a good day, Baekhyun would ask loads of questions, some serious, others silly (like why their Siamese fighting fish was named Parrot when Baekhyun was, in fact, the one who had named it sometime after his accident). But now he was silent and was constantly frowning, clearly frustrated as to why he couldn’t remember why he woke up feeling angry.

Yes, Baekhyun was angry — Chanyeol surmised that much. The last time Baekhyun woke up like this, it was the day after New Year’s… after one of the biggest fights they’ve had.

But Baekhyun couldn’t have remembered, Chanyeol was sure of it. Even if his husband had managed to figure it out all over again, any memory of it would’ve vanished the moment he sank into sleep, the anger and disgust he’d felt the previous night carried away into the farthest recesses of his mind.

That thought, however, didn’t make Chanyeol feel any better. There was a bitter pang in heart (a nice reminder that he still had one, but it hurt nonetheless). He looked at Baekhyun, who was now staring blankly at Parrot swimming mindlessly in his tank, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a faint fondness sprang in his chest. It was reminiscent of the early days of their marriage, when he once felt something for Baekhyun — something good, something close to, if not love, then affection.

Chanyeol had resigned long ago that the fault was not with Baekhyun. Baekhyun was kind. He laughed at even the dumbest jokes Chanyeol had. He never once said anything bad about anybody in the nearly five years Chanyeol had been married to him, and even in the few, short months they knew each other before their wedding. Baekhyun was many things — being difficult to love wasn’t one of them.

What was difficult was that they were forced into something neither of them wanted, and now they had to live with the consequences of choices other people made for them. And no matter how sorry Chanyeol felt for going behind his husband’s back and doing the things he did, it was almost always overshadowed by the anger he felt when he remembered that he never even dreamt of marrying in the first place.

This marriage wasn’t Chanyeol’s fault, and that fact made him believe that whatever bad thing that stemmed from it wasn’t his fault either.

Chanyeol admits to _one_ fault, though…

He blinked, and his mind was once again flooded with scenes of his nightmares, the horrible sound of tires screeching and windows breaking and the acrid smell of burning gasoline…

Chanyeol shook away the unpleasant images in his brain. He looked back at Baekhyun, who was now switching channels of the TV aimlessly. Chanyeol sat beside his husband and tried watching with him, which proved to be difficult, since the program rapidly changed from a cooking show to a music video, soap opera, and then to a sappy romcom.

Chanyeol turned to his husband, whose eyes seemed glassy and distant. And then the dull ache which he still hadn’t decided whether it was guilt or not was back in his chest, gnawing and gnawing away until it was almost painful.

 _Cheer him up_ , his conscience seemed to tell him.

 _Shut up_ , Chanyeol said to it.

Nevertheless, Chanyeol cleared his throat and asked his husband, “Is there — um — anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go? You look like you could use some fresh air.”

But Baekhyun didn’t look cheered up; he just seemed more confused. “Right now?” he asked, looking at the wall clock in the living room. “It’s quite late, though.”

“I meant tomorrow,” Chanyeol clarified. “It’s Valentine’s, isn’t it? It’s been a while since we went out on a proper date.”

Baekhyun’s eyes lit up, and Chanyeol could swear that his husband was blushing. Chanyeol had always found it cute when Baekhyun became like this, getting all shy when he suggested they do anything remotely romantic. It was as though Baekhyun never got past their honeymoon stage.

“So… where will it be?” Chanyeol was smiling now. Without realising it, he took one of Baekhyun’s soft, slender hands into his, lazily running the pad of his thumb on the back of it.

But the heaviness had returned to Baekhyun’s features. “I don’t know,” he said. “Where do we usually go? I’m not sure if I remember things correctly before...”

Baekhyun trailed off, but Chanyeol understood that he was talking about the accident. “How about The Harbour?” Chanyeol suggested helpfully.

“Oh! It’s still open, then?”

Chanyeol let out a hearty chuckle. “The Harbour’s been there a long time, Baek. It’ll take a tsunami or something worse to close it down.”

“Right,” said Baekhyun sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just that… I know a lot can change in a year.”

This time, it was Chanyeol who couldn’t muster a smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. _And a lot did change_ , he wanted to add.

****

* * *

**_BAEKHYUN_ **

****

The Harbour was a colossal strip mall complex that spanned the long coastline of the city. Its neighbouring bay was littered with deck boats, small yachts, and sail boats moored to little wooden piers connected to the seaside promenade. Baekhyun caught a glimpse of a boat owner snoozing leisurely on the deck of his small yacht with a white straw hat perched on his face, unbothered by the rocking of his boat against the waves. Apart from a few missing shops that Baekhyun had no idea already closed, The Harbour was just like how he remembered it — with the scent of salt in the air, the buzz of the crowd, and the light breeze coming in from the sea.

As it was Valentine’s Day, Baekhyun had expected that The Harbour would be packed. It was obvious that couples made the bulk of the crowd, but Baekhyun thought that he and Chanyeol fit right in with how tightly Chanyeol was holding his hand as he led them through the maze of people.

As his husband pulled him along, Baekhyun’s eyes fell on the hand linked to his and eventually to the gold wedding band glimmering on its fourth finger. He knew for a fact that he and Chanyeol had been married for quite some time now. But Baekhyun couldn’t understand for the life of him why his heart was hammering wildly in his chest as though this was their first date. They’ve done worse (or better?) things than walk hand in hand in public, so why did Baekhyun feel giddy and dizzy and full of butterflies?

 _If only I could remember,_ Baekhyun thought to himself.

If only he could remember, indeed, then he would be able to put context as to why he felt this way towards Chanyeol. The stirring in his stomach reminded him of being a lovesick college student, but there was also something else… something not quite as good nor innocent. It was anxiety, like his body was warning him of something he should already know but couldn’t seem to break through the thick wall of amnesia in his brain.

“Here we are,” said Chanyeol, interrupting Baekhyun’s train of thought.

They were in front of a quaint Spanish restaurant filled to the brim with diners, and Baekhyun could understand why so many people chose to eat here despite the countless choices of restaurants along the bay. Its façade looked like it was straight out of a meticulously curated Instagram feed: its whitewashed walls were accented by lush, pink bougainvilleas that drooped over pots hanging from its red-tiled roof and huge double wooden doors that was open all the way through which made it look like a house that was simply having guests over. Above the open doors hung a worn-out wooden plank that had the words _Los Tíos_ painted in white.

Sure enough, when Baekhyun looked to his side, four women (who looked like walking catalogues of those lifestyle magazines where everyone’s life was always perfect and happy) seated at the same table were holding their phones at any angle imaginable just to get an Instagram-worthy shot of their meals.

“There’s no room for us, I think,” Baekhyun said once he’d managed to tear his eyes away from the influencer table. As far as he could see, there was only one table left, and a gold _RESERVED_ placard was sitting right on top of it.

Chanyeol simply winked at Baekhyun. Chanyeol waved to someone inside, and seconds later, a server with a kind smile approached them and gave Chanyeol a friendly hug.

“Jongin!” Chanyeol said excitedly when he pulled away. “Thanks for squeezing us in.”

The server, who Baekhyun now knew to be Jongin, waved Chanyeol off. “Anything for you, man. Anything.” He turned to Baekhyun, his smile only growing wider. “And you must be the other Mr. Park.”

“He is,” said Chanyeol as he draped an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder and pulled him closer to him. “But he didn’t take my last name, so, technically, he’s still Mr. Byun.”

“Many apologies.” Jongin bowed slightly and then led them to the lone available table outside the restaurant. He picked up the _RESERVED_ sign, placed two menus on the table, and left Baekhyun and Chanyeol to choose once they were seated.

“Old friend of yours?” Baekhyun asked. He was looking at the menu, but the words simply flew off the pages and danced around his head; the tingling sensation was back in his stomach, but he was unsure why.

Chanyeol shook his head. Unlike Baekhyun, he seemed to be immersed in the food choices. “A friend of Sehun’s,” Chanyeol answered. He threw Baekhyun a quick glance. “You remember Sehun, right?”

Baekhyun nodded. He remembered Sehun, all right, and he had always disliked him. There was something about Sehun that made Baekhyun’s skin crawl with distrust.

“We haven’t eaten here before, have we?”

Again, Chanyeol shook his head. “This one’s new. Just opened a few months ago. What are you having?”

Baekhyun wasn’t really paying attention to the menu, so he let Chanyeol choose everything. Chanyeol didn’t disappoint, though. He seemed to know exactly what kind of food Baekhyun liked and didn’t, even the ones Baekhyun couldn’t remember hating or being fond of. Soon, their circular table was filled with mouth-watering dishes — seafood paella still served on the skillet, prawns sizzling in a spicy red sauce ( _gambas al ajillo_ , Jongin told them as he served it), and others that he couldn’t match a name with. As they ate, Chanyeol put Baekhyun up to speed with what happened around the city in the past year: which places have closed, which neighbours have moved, which politicians now ran the place. They even exchanged a few good laughs about the gossip Chanyeol overheard from their new neighbours last week while he was washing the car. When they were done and their plates were cleared, they washed it all off with a glass of fine Godello each.

He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or he was just too full, but Baekhyun’s eyes were getting heavy. It was probably the former, judging by the way Chanyeol was chuckling and smirking at him while he sipped more wine.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a lightweight, I know.” Baekhyun said. He was fighting a smile now, too.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Chanyeol finished the rest of his Godello in one go and was looking at Baekhyun’s glass eagerly.

Baekhyun noticed this, of course. “Here, you can have mine,” he said, pushing his glass towards his husband. “I doubt I can finish it, anyway.”

Chanyeol laughed teasingly once more, and then finished Baekhyun’s drink for him. “All right,” Chanyeol said after he paid for their meal, “time for the main event.” He grabbed Baekhyun’s hand and pulled him along yet again, weaving themselves a second time through the thick crowd.

“That wasn’t the main event?” Baekhyun asked once they were out in the open again. He was so full that he felt like he was going to burst any second; if they were about to eat again, he might just throw up completely.

Chanyeol shook his head no, smiling. “People don’t come to The Harbour for the food,” he said.

And then Baekhyun finally realised where Chanyeol was taking him — down to the docks, or rather, to the benches overlooking them and the bay.

The water had turned a magnificent colour. It was orange, pink, and purple all at the same time, and its hue seemed to change with each fleeting moment. It took a while for Baekhyun to work out that the bay was merely reflecting the colour of the sky because he hadn’t felt the day pass by at all. The sun had begun to set, and Baekhyun immediately understood why Chanyeol had called this the ‘main event’.

People were stopping to watch the spectacular view of the sun’s last few rays painting the sky and the bay, the water dancing with the colours it produced. _This_ was what people came to The Harbour for.

A warm feeling suddenly rushed throughout Baekhyun’s body as though the sunset itself was seeping into his skin, and it was followed by a memory so good that it must’ve been a dream — he and Chanyeol were sitting somewhere along this very same seaside watching another sunset from many years ago, when they were younger. Not younger in the sense that they had fewer fine lines, but younger in spirit. In the memory, Baekhyun’s stomach wasn’t in knots like it was almost all throughout today; he was at ease. And Chanyeol was more — if not happy — carefree. Chanyeol’s smiles were wider in the memory, wider than any smile Baekhyun had seen on him today.

It was a memory from before they were married.

Baekhyun wondered what went wrong as he was reeled back into the present.

“Chanyeol?”

“Hmm?”

“We’ve come here to watch the sunset before, right? Before we got married, I mean.”

Chanyeol looked at him and thought about it for a moment. “I think so, yeah. Why?”

“Nothing,” answered Baekhyun. “I just remembered something.”

Baekhyun was asking to confirm if he remembered it correctly. His memory wasn’t reliable — which was an indisputable truth — but his memories of Chanyeol were even more blurry around the edges than the others, like his brain couldn’t tell apart which ones were real from the ones that weren’t.

To him, Chanyeol was like one of those _Magic Eye_ posters: colourful but chaotic, and Baekhyun couldn’t figure out how to squint his eyes the right way to understand what he was supposed to be seeing.

Or perhaps it was him who didn’t want to see.

“There’s something wrong with us, isn’t there?” asked Baekhyun before he could think better of it. He turned to look at his husband, who was now staring at him with surprised, pained eyes. “Our marriage… Something feels wrong. And not just because it was out of convenience. Something else doesn’t feel right, but I can’t remember…”

Chanyeol didn’t speak for quite some time. He focused his eyes back on the bay until the sun had completely set in the horizon as though it had sunk in the water. Finally, he said, “Trust me, Baek, you wouldn’t want to remember, either. Not today, anyway. You don’t want to ruin a good day for yourself, trust me.”

Chanyeol’s voice had gone dark and heavy. Baekhyun decided not to pry further despite the knot in his stomach twisting tighter.

They sat in silence until the colours the sunset had left in its wake had all blended together to make a deep blue that turned darker and darker by the second. The night’s first stars peeked out from the drifting clouds and the crescent moon glowed brighter as the Earth turned farther away from the sun.

Chanyeol cleared his throat and finally breathed life into the dead air between them. He stood up, offering Baekhyun a reserved smile. “In the mood for some ice cream?”

Oddly enough, Baekhyun _did_ feel like getting ice cream even though it was a chilly February night; he was about to suggest that himself partly because he knew having some would lift his spirits like it always did, but mostly because he wanted to save them from the sombre silence. He had no idea, however, how Chanyeol seemed to think of the exact same thing that was going through his mind.

Baekhyun nodded. Chanyeol offered his hand and Baekhyun took it, and they set off once more.

Chanyeol led Baekhyun to a Cold Stone quite the walk from the bench they had been sitting in. Before Baekhyun could order, Chanyeol already did it for him, buying him a cup of mint chocolate topped with multi-coloured gummy bears while Chanyeol got himself a simple coffee-flavoured one.

They sat on the stools by the glass wall overlooking the promenade and dug through their ice creams in a much more comfortable silence than the one they shared on the seaside benches. Halfway through Baekhyun’s cup, he felt Chanyeol nudging him with his elbow.

Baekhyun looked up and saw why: a kid in his early to mid-teens was staring at him through the glass. The kid waved as he smiled widely; seconds later, he was going inside the store.

Baekhyun was quite certain that he had never seen the boy before. It was because of this that he realised that he must’ve met the kid sometime after his injury.

“That’s the kid you teach piano on weekdays — Jinseo,” whispered Chanyeol as the boy approached them.

“Mr. Byun!” said Jinseo, throwing his arms around Baekhyun’s waist.

Baekhyun wasn’t used to weird kids hugging him out of nowhere. But what was weirder was that the boy didn’t feel like a stranger at all. “Uh, h-hello, Jinseo,” Baekhyun said hesitantly.

“You remembered again!”

He didn’t want to disappoint the kid, not when he was beaming at him like that, so Baekhyun simply smiled at him. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said. “Where’re your parents?”

“Mom’s looking at some shoes! I was getting bored, so she allowed me to roam around for a while. I was on my way to meet her back at the store, then I saw you. Thought I’d say hello.”

“That was sweet of you,” Baekhyun said, smiling kindly. When he didn’t know what else to say, he turned to Chanyeol. “This is my husband, Chanyeol. Though I’m sure you’ve met before…”

Chanyeol grinned and extended his hand for the kid to shake. “Hi, Jinseo. I heard you play the piano really well.”

Then the oddest thing happened. Jinseo looked at Chanyeol’s outstretched arm but didn’t shake the hand that was offered to him. He then looked at Chanyeol with an icy look, and said flatly, “Hello, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s fingers curled inwards. “Right,” whispered Chanyeol as he pulled his arm back.

Baekhyun’s eyes darted back and forth between the kid and his husband. _Where did this hostility come from?_

“Thank you,” Baekhyun began, “for coming to say hello, Jinseo. You should run off to your mom now. She might be getting worried.”

Jinseo’s smile returned the moment his eyes left Chanyeol. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Mr. Byun!” He gave Baekhyun one last hug, and then he was gone.

Baekhyun tried to enjoy the rest of his ice cream, but he couldn’t help but notice the confused scowl that had materialised on his husband’s face.

A tiny voice from the back of his mind seemed to whisper to Baekhyun that the coldness of Jinseo towards Chanyeol had something to do with the way his stomach was wringing the whole day.

#  **Chapter Three**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

Chanyeol couldn’t get the image of Jinseo’s ice-cold stare out of his head for the entire week.

The look that kid gave him… There was no mistaking that it was out of hate. But why? As far as he knew, he never did anything to that little brat. Heck, Chanyeol could even count on one hand the number of conversations he had exchanged with the boy. But those eyes…

Chanyeol knew it was impossible, but he had the sick feeling that Jinseo knew something. _How, though?_ he asked himself as he stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, trying to make sense of the kid’s behaviour yesterday as his eyes followed the traffic on the avenue below.

A knock on the door followed by someone clearing their throat broke Chanyeol’s contemplation.

“Come in.”

A woman Chanyeol had never seen before emerged, wearing a shade of lipstick that was so shockingly red that Chanyeol had no choice but to take notice. “Documents for approval, Mr. Park. From marketing.”

There was a familiar tug in Chanyeol’s gut. Chanyeol immediately checked the calendar on his desk. It was Friday.

Chanyeol held out his hand for the documents, but his eyes remained on the woman, surveying her from head to toe. His eyes lingered on the curve of her hips longer than what was appropriate. Once he had the papers in his hand, he went through them as slowly as possible.

“You’re new here?”

“Yes, sir,” the woman replied. “It’s my first week.”

“Marketing, is that right?”

She nodded. “I’m Ms. Lim’s new assistant.”

“What happened to the other one? The one who always wore awful pantsuits.”

The woman let out a small laugh. Her teeth looked dazzlingly white in contrast to her deep red lips. “I’m not sure, sir, but I overheard the interns talking the other day about how Gukjoo had pissed off Ms. Lim.”

“Gossiping while at work,” said Chanyeol as he signed the last of the documents, “is not a good work ethic, Ms…”

“Jang, sir. Jang Heejin.” Chanyeol handed back the papers to her. There was still a hint of a smile on her distracting lips. “I’m not a gossipmonger, sir, I just couldn’t help but overhear the interns. I’m sure you know they talk so loudly.”

Chanyeol leaned back on his office chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Well, Ms. Jang, let’s hope overhearing intern gossip won’t develop into a habit, or else you could get… disciplined.”

Their eyes met, and for an electrifying moment, Chanyeol knew that she understood. Jang Heejin’s smile had turned into a knowing smirk. “I do hope it doesn’t come to that, Mr. Park. Goodbye.”

Chanyeol didn’t tear his eyes away from her until she had disappeared once more behind the door.

“That was the most revolting thing I have seen in my life,” a familiar voice nagged from Chanyeol’s side. He turned to see a visibly irritated Junmyeon glaring at him.

The shade of Jang Heejin’s lipstick had been so distracting that Chanyeol had forgotten for a moment that he shared his huge office with two other people.

Sehun was snickering stupidly from his desk. “Myeon, unclench for fuck’s sake. I thought you knew Chanyeol swung like a pendulum.”

“It’s not that,” said Junmyeon sharply. “We’re at _work._ That woman is a walking, breathing workplace harassment lawsuit.”

“I’ll bet my entire life savings that you’re more likely to sue Chanyeol for anything than that oblivious assistant,” Sehun shot back.

Junmyeon stood up. He tore his coat from the rack near his desk and put it on angrily. “You both disgust me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll puke my guts out right now.”

“Have fun!” Sehun called out as Junmyeon stormed out of the room.

***

Last night was probably the shortest one-night stand Chanyeol’s ever had. That red-lipped marketing assistant (whose name Chanyeol had already forgotten) had been fun, and Chanyeol would’ve enjoyed her company more if he didn’t see that piano kid’s stare of loathing every time he closed his eyes.

Chanyeol’s palm itched whenever he remembered how Jinseo had deliberately ignored the handshake he’d offered and instead greeted him with the coldest hello he had heard in his life.

 _What does that kid know?_ Chanyeol asked himself for approximately the millionth time this week. His head felt like it was being hit by a battering ram whenever he repeated this question in his mind.

It didn’t help that Chanyeol’s mother — his _real_ mother, not that snake Yeojeong who’s currently spending all his father’s money — was singing some song from the 70s in an ear-splitting tune, swaying her hips to every lyric.

“ _Mom_ ,” he groaned, “would you give it a rest?”

His mother responded by singing (if one could call it that) even louder.

Chanyeol was beginning to regret coming here. Normally, he would go to the nearest _pojangmacha_ he could find after his Friday night endeavours and go home just before sunrise, but for some reason, his feet brought him to his mother’s house instead.

He watched her as she paced around her surgically clean kitchen making hangover soup. Chanyeol’s mother always jumped at the opportunity to cook for him, even after he moved out of the house; he still remembered the home-cooked meals and side dishes she would send to their university dormitory (most of which ended up not in Chanyeol’s stomach, but in Junmyeon and Sehun’s). Even if their household never had a shortage of help, Chanyeol’s mother never let anyone touch her kitchen. She cooked every single meal in the house without assistance.

Chanyeol never clearly understood why his mother never left this house, so he just assumed that it had something to do with her attachment to her kitchen. She could’ve left the manor years ago for many reasons — her only son growing up and getting married, and her husband gallivanting with some woman half his age, among others — but she rooted herself firmly and remained where she had been for nearly three decades of her life. Even if Chanyeol’s father technically had the legal right to the house (the manor was the ancestral home of the Parks), he had foregone that privilege and let Chanyeol’s mother take it all down to the last stone on its grounds as some sick form of compensation, a pathetic consolation prize.

“Oooh, it’s coming together!” said Mrs. Park (she had also decided to keep her adulterous husband’s surname like some masochist) after tasting some of the soup from a long wooden ladle. She covered the pot and let the soup simmer one last time. She turned to Chanyeol. “How’s my son-in-law?”

“Perhaps you should ask about your son first,” he replied.

Mrs. Park scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. There’s nothing wrong with you. Baekhyun, on the other hand—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. He’s been through a lot, he needs to be taken care of, I need to be good to him. I’ve heard it all before.”

Chanyeol didn’t understand why he was in an irritable mood, but then he closed his eyes for too long and he once again saw Jinseo’s accusatory glare, the kid’s beady eyes seared into his memory. He had a feeling of nausea akin to seasickness. Maybe, Chanyeol thought, it was high time for him to admit that his symptoms were indeed manifestations of guilt.

“You ought to listen to some of the things you’re being repeatedly told,” said Mrs. Park. “You might learn a thing or two.” She turned off the stove and transferred the pot of steaming soup onto the marble kitchen counter, serving her son a bowl of rice along with it.

Chanyeol began to eat. His mother’s cooking tasted immaculate as ever, but even the warmth that the hangover soup provided couldn’t thaw the numbing guilt creeping into his chest.

“So? How is he?”

“He’s okay, but…” Chanyeol paused. He was still hungry, but he couldn’t bring himself to take another bite somehow. “He’s been upset lately. And I can’t ask him what’s bothering him because I know he’ll just say that he can’t remember.”

“Upset,” his mother repeated. She shot Chanyeol a knowing look. “And why would he be upset?”

It was a rhetorical question, Chanyeol could tell. At the same time, however, Chanyeol knew it was highly unlikely that his mother knew where he sneaked off to on Friday nights. But then again, Chanyeol thought the same thing about the kid Baekhyun taught piano to, and the cold eyes that have been haunting him since Sunday looked like they knew something.

“I have no idea,” said Chanyeol untruthfully.

Mrs. Park shook her head, a disbelieving smile on her lips. “You _are_ your father’s son.”

Chanyeol knew that his mother had caught him in a lie, and there was no point in lying further. “But he couldn’t have remembered,” Chanyeol reasoned. “How could he be upset by something he has no memory of?”

“It’s called intuition, you dolt,” answered Mrs. Park, “a thing you clearly lack.”

“And I guess it was through your intuition too that you figured out I’m doing things behind Baekhyun’s back?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “It’s not rocket science, really. You literally came here at five o’clock in the morning, reeking of _soju_ and some cheap cologne that I know you wouldn’t buy in a million years, when you should be at home with your husband, sleeping in on a Saturday morning. That, and your friend Junmyeon has a fat mouth.”

Chanyeol wasn’t at all surprised knowing that his mom and Junmyeon were speaking (his mother was inexplicably fond with that git ever since their university days), nor was he taken aback with the way his mother was talking to him. She never sugar-coated her words to him, even back when he was younger. Her brand of love was always tough, always so brutally honest.

“I expected more from you, you know,” said Mrs. Park quietly. “I thought you would learn from your father.”

Chanyeol’s heart sank to the floor. His appetite was now completely gone after hearing his own mother compare him to the man who’d caused her so much pain over the years. The worst part was Chanyeol couldn’t deny it — even quietly, even to himself. Had he really become like his father? If so, why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t he noticed that he had become someone he hated?

Chanyeol didn’t have the answers to these. Perhaps it got lost in his attempts of persuading himself that he had little to no fault in how his life turned out — he never wanted to get married, so why should he feel bad about not taking the vows of that marriage seriously?

Or perhaps this was who he really was. Maybe he was simply bound, one way or another, to take after his father. After all, didn’t all parents project onto their children and vice versa?

“You must hate me now.”

Mrs. Park didn’t say anything. Chanyeol couldn’t look at her to see what her expression was. So far, he didn’t like the one he was imagining in his head. But after a while, she said softly, “I could never do that. And now that I think about it, I don’t think I truly hate your father.”

Chanyeol finally looked up. His mother’s eyes, which were usually so strong and defiant, were now soft. Gentle. It was something he rarely saw in his life.

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What colour is a mirror? Why does time exist? Why can’t I hate your father even though he put me through hell and back? No one knows. Not every question can be answered, at least not right away, not without giving it deep thought.”

That made Chanyeol feel a tad bit hopeful that maybe he still had a chance to figure out the things that didn’t make sense right now. Maybe it wasn’t too late to set a few wrongs right. Maybe.

But his mother’s next question immediately took away whatever hope she’d just given him a few seconds ago.

“Do you love Baekhyun?”

It was a question Chanyeol had asked himself countless times in the span of their almost five-year marriage — and yet it was also a question he hadn’t figured out how to answer. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t given it much thought, either.

It was easy to write _‘I love you, you amnesiac’_ in the notes he would leave Baekhyun in the morning; it was difficult for Chanyeol to say with conviction that he did, in fact, love his husband.

He had come close to loving Baekhyun once, twice, maybe thrice… But there was always something holding him back, or maybe _he_ was purposely holding himself back.

When Chanyeol didn’t answer, Mrs. Park said, “It’s all right if you’re still not sure. It took me years to love your father, too.”

Chanyeol knew his parents’ marriage was one of convenience, too. But it wasn’t a fact he dwelled on too much.

Mrs. Park continued, “I didn’t realise that I’d come to love your father until I woke up one day and simply did. Love can be many things, not just the grand interpretations of it we’ve been fed our whole lives by sappy songs or flowery poetry or unrealistic movies. Understanding what a tiny twitch of their brow means, knowing by heart exactly how much sugar they put in their coffee — these are some of the little things we think are trivial, but they mean that we’re paying attention. And we give attention with such grace only to the people we care the most about, the people we love.”

Chanyeol was silent for quite some time, even after he had half-heartedly finished the breakfast his mother had made him and had left the manor. As he drove home to the house he and Baekhyun shared, his mind travelled elsewhere. He thought about the seemingly useless things he’d memorised about Baekhyun and wondered if they really meant anything else beyond being random facts he’d unconsciously etched in his heart.

He arrived home half an hour later, his mind buzzing with clarity as though he hadn’t drunk five bottles of _soju_ just a few hours ago. His mother’s hangover soup had warmed him up, but it wasn’t as sobering as his mother’s words.

****

* * *

**_BAEKHYUN_ **

****

Baekhyun woke up to the sound of feet shuffling around the bedroom. It was way too early for him to be awake; his eyes were so heavy that it hurt when he tried to open them, but when he finally managed to do so, he caught a glimpse of his husband getting ready for work.

Chanyeol was walking around the room frantically, his tie still not fastened properly around his neck. He had an apple between his teeth as he paced back and forth the room retrieving documents from his desk drawers, occasionally taking a bite out of what Baekhyun didn’t hope was the only thing he was having for breakfast.

Chanyeol still hadn’t noticed Baekhyun gazing sleepily at him. Which was fine for Baekhyun because he was quite enjoying watching Chanyeol without him noticing.

Baekhyun enjoyed this because as far as he could remember, Chanyeol always had his guard up whenever he was around him, like he was keeping Baekhyun at arm’s length, like he didn’t want to let Baekhyun in. It was an odd thing to observe about his husband, Baekhyun thought. Chanyeol was someone who should be the farthest thing from a stranger to him.

And yet that was what he felt as his half-open eyes followed Chanyeol around the room and noticed small things about him like the wave his brows made when they were furrowed in concentration or the way his lips moved when he muttered words under his breath. It was refreshing to see Chanyeol like this. Even if he seemed rather dishevelled because of his pre-work rituals, he looked _real_ — far from the Chanyeol that Baekhyun usually saw, whose expressions were calculated down to a T.

When Chanyeol finally stopped moving about, he finished his apple in five big bites. He fixed his tie in a Windsor knot and started walking towards Baekhyun. In a fit of panic, Baekhyun closed his eyes shut, hoping that his husband wouldn’t notice that he was faking to be asleep.

Baekhyun felt Chanyeol’s side of the bed dip beside him. Then he heard scratching sounds, like the sound of pen gliding on paper, followed by a small thud. The weight on the mattress shifted again. This time, he could feel Chanyeol hovering over him. The skin on Baekhyun’s face prickled because of the proximity, and he could tell that at any moment, Chanyeol was going to say, _“Okay, I know you’re awake…”_

But the words never came. Instead, Baekhyun felt his husband’s lips plant a soft kiss on his temple. Heat rose to his face; he was trying hard not to smile.

When the bed sprang back up, indicating that Chanyeol was no longer sitting on it, and the bedroom door closed with a soft _click_ , Baekhyun opened his eyes once more. He sat up almost immediately, his head swimming in glee.

He looked over to the nightstand where the paper Chanyeol had scribbled on was waiting for him, and when he read the first line, the smile vanished from his face.

> _Today your parents are coming over for lunch. Your piano lesson with Jeon Jinseo is pushed back to 2:00 p.m. I’ll be home a bit late, so don’t stay up. Always keep your phone close. I love you, you amnesiac._
> 
> _— Chanyeol_

***

A familiar black Tucson pulled up outside the house at around eleven o’clock. Baekhyun immediately recognised the car as he had ridden it countless times before to his father’s political elbow-rubbings. He hated those things, and he wished his amnesia had taken those memories instead of the ones he had of yesterday.

Baekhyun had been watching the driveway ever since he finished preparing lunch. His stomach churned the whole time and seeing his parents in the flesh didn’t make him feel any better.

Assemblyman Byun was dressed in a crisp midnight-blue suit that made his azure necktie stand out. Despite his handsome getup, Baekhyun thought he looked revolting. There was no reason for his father to dress this nicely when he was just visiting his amnesiac son in the suburbs — but God forbid Assemblyman Byun to be caught without his best foot forward. Through the window from where he sat, Baekhyun could see that his father’s face was still contorted into what seemed to be a perpetual scowl.

Mrs. Byun was dressed equally formal. She wore a lemon Chanel suit with a matching pillbox hat, an ensemble straight out of the 50s. She was frowning, too, and her body language made it clear that her sour mood had something to do with her husband.

Baekhyun finally walked away from the window and opened the front door. “Hello,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which probably didn’t sound as convincing as he wanted because he wasn’t looking forward whatsoever to his parents’ visit today.

“My sweet!” twitted Mrs. Byun in her usual sugary voice, any trace of the bitterness Baekhyun saw earlier now gone from her features. “It’s been so long!”

“Uh, yes. I’m sure it has been,” Baekhyun said. (He had no idea when he saw his parents last.)

Mrs. Byun traded her low suede heels for a pair of house slippers and went inside.

“Son,” Assemblyman Byun greeted in a gruff voice.

Baekhyun couldn’t meet his father’s eyes, so he just stretched his lips and hoped it looked like a smile, and then offered him another pair of house slippers and led him inside.

Of the memories Baekhyun had of his parents, none of them were particularly tender. His father had been a politician before Baekhyun was even born; their father-son bondings were usually limited to state banquets, inaugurations, and campaign rallies. Baekhyun sure hoped that other politicians’ children had better childhoods, because his father was as warm as an ice-cold beer on a winter night. Baekhyun’s mother tried her best to fill in the gaps his father’s career left. But it wasn’t quite enough, not when their entire family revolved around that career.

Lunch was a quiet affair — at least on Baekhyun’s end. His father was going on and on and on about how idiotic the Speaker of the Assembly was and how he couldn’t believe that said idiot bested him in the race for the speakership.

“It’s just for another two years, dear,” said Mrs. Byun consolingly.

Baekhyun was quite used to his father’s political tirades and to hear him say every politician in the country was a hopeless halfwit (except for him, of course).

If there was one good thing that came out of getting arranged to be married at twenty-four, it was that Baekhyun didn’t have to live in his parents’ house any longer and listen to his father’s repetitive rants.

“What do you think, son?” Assemblyman Byun asked.

Baekhyun had stopped listening when his father started calling the Deputy Speakers interesting names. “Sorry… what?”

“I said,” his father repeated, “what do you think of my chances in the presidential elections next year?”

Baekhyun arched an eyebrow. Didn’t his father mention a few choice words ago that he’d just won his fourth term in the Assembly last year while Baekhyun was in the hospital? “But you just won,” he said.

“Yes, and if I lose the election, I remain a member of the Assembly. No harm done.”

 _Then what’s the point of running for president, then?_ Baekhyun wanted to ask his father. Was that his only goal in life — to seek office higher than his last?

Mrs. Byun, who was sensing the thickening tension, interrupted before Baekhyun could say anything. “Oh, you know Baekhyun isn’t really interested in politics,” she said soothingly.

Baekhyun _was_ interested in politics — but not his father’s politics.

Assemblyman Byun scoffed. “He would be interested if he majored in Political Science in university and then went to law school like I told him to. Instead, he went on and pursued that useless music degree of his. And where has music gotten him? At home, teaching piano to children, that’s where.”

“That’s enough,” Mrs. Byun said. Her voice was no longer pacific. She threw her husband a glare so sharp it could’ve cut him open if it were a knife. “There is nothing wrong with our son’s job.”

“I know there isn’t. I’m just saying he could’ve been more.”

Baekhyun’s ears were ringing with anger. He didn’t think it was possible for the lunch he shared with his father to seem even less appetising, but there he sat, his appetite now non-existent.

Baekhyun put down his chopsticks and stood up. “Get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Assemblyman Byun incredulously.

“Get out,” Baekhyun repeated. “Get out of my house. I won’t be insulted in my dining room. I won’t tolerate a disrespectful guest.”

Anger flared in his father’s eyes, but Baekhyun didn’t flinch.

“I’m not a guest,” Assemblyman Byun said. “I’m your father.”

Baekhyun looked him in the eye. “Are you?”

“You ungrateful little twat.” Baekhyun’s father stood from his seat and threw his napkin over his half-eaten lunch. He left the table without another word, and a few moments later, the sound of the front door opening and closing resounded through the house.

Mrs. Byun shook his head in dismay. “I’m so sorry, my sweet.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin and then folded it neatly on the table. “You know your father, he can be—”

“Why on Earth do you still put up with him?”

Baekhyun couldn’t understand for the life of him why his parents were still together. His father was probably the foulest person to ever walk the planet, and even if his father turned into a saint overnight, there still was this ridiculous age gap between them that was maybe acceptable in their time but would definitely be considered criminal in this day and age.

But Mrs. Byun wasn’t surprised by her son’s interruption, not one bit. She looked at him with solemn eyes. “I put up with your father the same reason you put up with your husband — because I love him. And love makes us do the stupidest things, like forgive unforgivable sins.”

But before Baekhyun could get over his confusion and ask her what she’d meant by that, his mother thanked him for the lunch and left the house.

***

“Uh… are you okay, Mr. Byun?” asked Jinseo when Baekhyun had messed up his demonstration for the nth time.

They were learning Bach’s fifteenth Invention today, and although Baekhyun was quite sure he could play this piece in his sleep, for some reason he kept screwing up halfway through it.

“Yeah, I’m…” Baekhyun trailed off, not wanting to say he was fine when he really wasn’t. “Can we take five? Do you want some snacks?”

Jinseo nodded fervently and immediately dashed out of the studio. Baekhyun figured that he was much happier about taking a break from lessons than having snacks.

When Baekhyun made his way to the kitchen, Jinseo was already seated in one of the stools at the marble island, swinging his feet as they dangled from the chair. Baekhyun could feel the kid’s eyes following him as he prepared sandwiches and chips.

“You seem distracted today, Mr. Byun,” said Jinseo as Baekhyun put down the plate of snacks in front of him.

Baekhyun took a small bite out of his sandwich even though he didn’t really feel like eating. “I’ve had a rough morning.”

“Is it because of your husband?”

“No, it’s because of my… Wait.” Jinseo looked up from his plate. “What do you mean ‘because of my husband’?”

Baekhyun’s head was spinning. First his mother and now his student… Why were people talking about Chanyeol as if he’d done something heinous? What did they know that he didn’t?

Jinseo put down his half-eaten sandwich and bit his bottom lip nervously. He looked like he was itching to tell Baekhyun something, but at the same time, he seemed afraid of Baekhyun finding out.

“Mom told me not to meddle in other people’s business, but…” Jinseo paused. Baekhyun looked at him expectantly, silently urging him to continue. Jinseo cleared his throat. “Well, the thing is, I saw Mr. Park one time…”

“And?”

The kid’s eyes were now darting everywhere but Baekhyun’s face. He scratched the back of his neck and said, “Maybe you should ask him…”

“No,” said Baekhyun firmly. Baekhyun was done playing guessing games, and he knew that if he asked Chanyeol, he wouldn’t get a straightforward answer. “Tell me, Jinseo.”

Jinseo heaved a deep sigh. “I… Well, it was Friday, and I was up all night playing video games, then around midnight I got hungry, and we were all out of instant ramen, so I went across the street to buy some from the corner store, and then…”

“Then?”

“I saw him coming into our apartment building. He was with someone.”

Baekhyun’s throat went dry. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Someone… like a friend?” he asked, but he already knew the answer before it left Jinseo’s lips.

“No,” Jinseo answered, his tone a hundred percent resolute. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if he was seeing things, but Jinseo’s pupils seemed to be shaking with anger.

“Was he with a man or a woman?” asked Baekhyun. He was struggling to keep his voice from breaking.

“Does it matter? The point is he’s cheating on you, Mr. Byun!”

 _It didn’t_ , Baekhyun wanted to say, because he knew that Chanyeol went either way. But he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. He was already hurt, anyway. And he wouldn’t remember a single thing this time tomorrow. What difference could one more piece of information make?

“Tell me anyway,” Baekhyun insisted.

“It was a man.”

Baekhyun nodded. It took every ounce of his self-control for him not to break down then and there.

“Thank you for telling me, Jinseo,” said Baekhyun.

The rest of their meal and their lessons were spent in silence, and the moment Jinseo and his mom drove away from the house, Baekhyun hopped into his own car and didn’t look back.

#  **Chapter Four**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

“Mr. Park, please calm down.”

Chanyeol barely heard the police officer. He was having trouble even hearing his own thoughts; there were just too many of them.

Sehun approached him and handed him a glass of water. Chanyeol took it but didn’t drink, the water swaying uselessly in the glass as Chanyeol paced back and forth the living room.

He glanced at the wall clock just above the television — it was nearly 5 a.m. His eyes were heavy and raw from crying, and even though he hadn’t slept a wink, he was too worried to feel tired.

“Mr. Park,” the police officer repeated, “We can’t help you if you just keep walking around.”

Chanyeol stopped in his tracks and looked around the room. The house had never been this full before. He always thought that it was too big for him and Baekhyun, but now he felt suffocated because of all the people in their living room staring at him.

Sehun came no less than thirty minutes after Chanyeol had called him, accompanied by a very anxious-looking Junmyeon. Jongdae turned up at around 3 a.m. Kyungsoo wasn’t answering his phone. It had been Junmyeon’s suggestion to get the police involved once they’d run out of ideas, and now there were three officers hanging around Chanyeol’s house, growing as restless as him by the minute.

“Okay,” Chanyeol said. He finally sat down on the sofa, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting — he was now bouncing his leg anxiously.

“Good,” said the police officer. “I’ve already heard from your friends here, but I need to hear it from you. I’m Detective Kim Minseok from HGPD, and these—” he pointed to the two officers behind him, “—are Officers Lee and Choi. Let’s start from the beginning. What time did you come home last night?”

“Around midnight, I think,” answered Chanyeol.

Officer Kim raised an eyebrow. “Long hours?”

“We’re in the middle of an important deal at work,” Sehun said helpfully. “We usually go home earlier.”

Officer Kim scribbled something on his notepad, and then turned back to Chanyeol. “And when did you notice your husband was gone?”

“Immediately. His car’s gone and he’s not answering my calls, plus he’s usually in bed by the time I get home. And he’s not supposed to be out and about. He has anterograde amnesia, you see.”

“Antero—”

“He can’t retain new memories,” Chanyeol put simply. “He can’t remember things that happened after the accident that caused the amnesia.”

“I see,” said Officer Kim. “So, you have a husband who has amnesia, and you just leave the keys to his car sitting around the house.”

Chanyeol swallowed thickly. “Yes, I already realise how stupid that is of me.”

“Have you called everyone you could think of whom he might go to?”

“Of course,” Chanyeol said defensively. “He’s not at his parents’ nor my parents’ house. I even called the mom of that kid he teaches piano to in desperation. The friend he usually stayed with before his accident isn’t picking up, and I think he’s out of town, anyway…”

“Has this happened before?”

Chanyeol thought about it for a moment. He opened his mouth to say, _‘No, not since…’_ and then it all came crashing down on him like a hundred-foot-tall wave.

He stood up abruptly and grabbed his car keys. “I know where he is.”

***

As the sun rose, so did the residents of Mokjae-dong. From the corner of his eye, Chanyeol could see the curious neighbours glancing behind their blinds and curtains, wondering why a man was pounding on Doh Kyungsoo’s door at six o’clock in the morning. The back of Chanyeol’s neck prickled with awareness as the onlookers’ stares bore into him.

“Doh Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol yelled as he slammed his fist once more on the front door. “I know you’re home, your car’s in the driveway! My husband’s car is also here!”

People were now coming out of their houses, talking in hushed voices and craning their necks to see what the early morning commotion was all about. But Chanyeol couldn’t care less. He continued shouting and hammering the door until finally it swung open, revealing a man wearing thick, black rim glasses whose eyebrows were scrunched on his forehead.

“You’re making a scene, Chanyeol.”

Kyungsoo was a couple of inches shorter than Chanyeol was, but his presence was nothing but small. His large, dark eyes were aflame with what looked like a mix of anger and embarrassment from Chanyeol making a ruckus so early in the morning. Kyungsoo had always been hostile towards Chanyeol, and it wasn’t very difficult to figure out why.

“Where’s my husband?”

Kyungsoo scoffed as though Chanyeol had no right to call Baekhyun that. “He’s in the shower. So, would you _shut up_ and stop feeding the rumourmongers in my neighbourhood?” He walked back inside, leaving the door ajar behind him as a sign for Chanyeol to enter.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” said Chanyeol through gritted teeth as he sat hesitantly on the sofa.

Kyungsoo paid him no attention at first; he merely swept into the open kitchen and brewed some coffee. “I’m sure you don’t have trouble remembering that we don’t have a relationship where we answer each other’s calls.”

“My husband went to you when we all thought he’d gone missing. And it didn’t cross your mind to tell me? The police were—”

“That’s right,” Kyungsoo cut him off, “it _didn’t_ cross my mind to tell you. You wanna know why? Because I couldn’t get the sight of Baekhyun in tears out of my mind. That was all I could think about ever since he came knocking on my door yesterday afternoon. And you wanna know what he told me?”

But Chanyeol already knew, and he wasn’t keen on hearing it from Kyungsoo’s mouth. He already felt every degree of horrible; he didn’t need a reminder of how disgusting he was.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Chanyeol said, his mouth dry. It was true. The last time had been that marketing assistant whose name he couldn’t remember if it saved his life, and that had been _weeks_ ago. And for the first time in nearly five years, he was convinced that he’d had enough of it. “Look, whatever he found out yesterday, that’s all in the past. I’m not… That’s not me. Not anymore.”

Kyungsoo’s features didn’t move so much as a twitch. He was completely still, sporting a blank gaze in his eyes, utterly unimpressed by Chanyeol’s apparent change of heart. “This isn't a confession, Chanyeol. I’m not going to forgive you for what you did — what you’ve been doing to Baekhyun for the past four years — just because you finally woke up one day with a conscience. I don’t give two shits if you’ve changed, if you’re a whole nother person now. _I don’t care._ ”

“Listen—”

“No,” said Kyungsoo firmly, “ _you_ listen to me. You don’t deserve Baekhyun.”

What Kyungsoo just said was too truthful for Chanyeol to be angry at it. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Kyungsoo continued, “You didn’t deserve him in your past life. You don’t deserve him in this one. And you certainly won’t deserve him in the next.” The coffeemaker had stopped brewing. Kyungsoo paused and poured himself a cup. “If you have a shred of humanity left in you, you’ll divorce him and allow him to be taken care of someone he deserves.”

For some reason, the word ‘divorce’ made Chanyeol’s stomach lurch. Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, he asked sarcastically, “Someone like you?”

“Yes, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo answered. “Someone like me. Someone who sees his value as a person and treats him like it.” He paused, and then took a sip of his coffee. “Have you forgotten how Baekhyun got his amnesia in the first place?”

Chanyeol’s heart sank to his feet. _Of course, he hadn’t forgotten._ How could he, when his nightmares remind him of it almost every single night?

“It was your fault,” Kyungsoo said. “I was on the phone with Baekhyun when he was driving that night. He was supposed to come here because… because he saw you with someone. You’re the reason that accident happened. And I will never forgive you for it.”

Before Chanyeol could answer, the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs resonated through the house. Baekhyun emerged into the living room, his hair still damp. The smile on his face vanished when he saw Chanyeol and Kyungsoo glaring at each other.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said, “what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You should be at home.”

Colour rose to Baekhyun’s cheek. “I know, but I… I woke up this morning and I couldn’t remember how I got here.”

“You drove here,” Kyungsoo told him gently, a stark contrast to the tone he was using with Chanyeol just moments ago. “Yesterday. Your car’s outside.”

“Oh. Right. Well… I guess I should get going then, since…” Baekhyun trailed off. He looked at Chanyeol, who was still glaring at Kyungsoo. “Have you two been fighting again?”

“No,” Kyungsoo lied. “You’re right. You should get home. You had a rough day yesterday. You need to rest. Chanyeol drove here too, so I guess your car will have to stay here for a while. I’ll drop it by your house this afternoon.”

Baekhyun walked towards Kyungsoo and gave him a long hug. Anger swelled up in Chanyeol’s chest. “Thank you,” Baekhyun said softly to Kyungsoo, but it was loud enough for Chanyeol to hear.

Baekhyun strode to the front door and left, Chanyeol following closely behind. But before Chanyeol could step out, Kyungsoo spoke once again.

“Remember what I said, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol didn’t say anything in return, but he did think about what Kyungsoo told him the entire time they drove home.

****

* * *

**_BAEKHYUN_ **

****

Apart from the brief call Chanyeol made to Sehun telling him that everything was fine and that it was all right to send the police away, Chanyeol had been unbearably silent. It was odd for Baekhyun, because no matter how awkward things get, Chanyeol always found something to say just to get rid of the quiet.

But today was different. When they got home, Chanyeol went straight to shower while Baekhyun prepared breakfast. They ate in silence; Chanyeol didn’t even spare Baekhyun so much as a glance. When they were done, Chanyeol also washed the dishes wordlessly.

Baekhyun’s bottom lip was beginning to hurt from all the nervous chewing he’d been doing. He wished he knew what he was doing at Kyungsoo’s on a Saturday morning, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember.

Chanyeol seemed so tired. He had dark circles under his eyes and kept yawning every minute or so, which gave Baekhyun the impression that he hadn’t slept at all. Guilt simmered further in Baekhyun’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun whispered. They were in the living room, watching a rerun of some variety show. He wasn’t sure if Chanyeol heard him.

Apparently Chanyeol did because he sighed and then turned off the TV. “I’m not mad at you.” He turned to look at his husband. “I was so worried. I thought something bad happened to you. Besides, I don’t think I have the right to be angry at you.”

“What do you mean?” Baekhyun asked. His brain throbbed as though he knew what Chanyeol was talking about, but the memory couldn’t seem to surface. There was a sharp pain in his heart, like this stubborn memory was something that should infuriate him, but he just sat there and continued to be confused.

Chanyeol heaved another deep breath. “Baekhyun… are you happy here? With me?”

The question surprised Baekhyun. It was the first time Chanyeol asked him anything of the sort, at least as far as he could remember. But what shocked Baekhyun the most was that he didn’t know how to answer.

Although it was true that they were forced into this marriage and that happiness surely wasn’t something they shared at first, Baekhyun couldn’t outright say no. It wasn’t sunny every day, and the same could be said for their marriage. But there _were_ bright spots. There were good days, days when he realised he’d learned to love Chanyeol.

At the same time, however, Baekhyun couldn’t say yes. There was a feeling deep in his heart that held him back — a feeling of anger, of betrayal, of distrust. But he couldn’t figure out why.

“Chanyeol, I…”

“Listen,” said Chanyeol softly, “it’s okay if you want out. I know our parents would be disappointed, but… But I think it’s time we think of ourselves first. That _you_ think of yourself first. If you’re unhappy, then…”

“How about you? Are _you_ unhappy?” Baekhyun asked indignantly. Why on Earth is Chanyeol asking him this? Was _he_ the one who wanted out?

“No, no. It’s not like that. I’m just saying that…”

“Is there someone else?” Baekhyun’s heart was aching now. A rancid itch in his brain told him that there _was_ someone else, but he wasn’t sure. And he didn’t know if he wanted to believe it.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything for a few moments. Baekhyun’s eyes stung. Chanyeol’s silence couldn’t mean anything good. But then, Chanyeol said, “When I came home last night and you were gone, that was the worst I’ve felt in my whole life. I couldn’t find you anywhere, no one knew where you were… That’s when I realised that there couldn’t be anyone else. Not when my world stops spinning the moment you’re not in it. And I’m so stupid to not have known that sooner. I’m sorry.”

“Then,” Baekhyun began, his voice breaking, “why were you asking me to leave you just now?”

Chanyeol looked him in the eye. His pupils were quivering. “I’m not asking you to go, Baekhyun. I’m asking you if you want to stay.”

Baekhyun didn’t know how to answer. His mind was racing in the speed of light; he had too many thoughts, and he couldn’t find the words to relay them. So, he just sat there for a while, gaze fixed on his husband’s tired face, tears pooling in his eyes. Then, before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and kissed Chanyeol.

Baekhyun had forgotten so many things, but he still remembered the first time he tasted Chanyeol’s lips. They had been warm just like they were now. But unlike then, there was no trace of hesitation on either of them this time.

Chanyeol didn’t recoil even if Baekhyun had kissed him without warning. Instead, he pulled Baekhyun closer to him, placing his fingers on Baekhyun’s waist, urging him to sit on his lap.

The kiss deepened. But it wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t like the kisses they’d shared after a fight or when Chanyeol came home reeking of alcohol. The kiss was something else. It was a kiss that promised tomorrow, a kiss that promised to stay.

Chanyeol stood up with Baekhyun’s legs wrapped around his waist, carrying him upstairs to their room.

The bed let out a soft creak when Chanyeol put Baekhyun down. Their lips found each other once again, only breaking away when they peeled the clothes off one another. When every piece of clothing finally laid neglected on the floor, Chanyeol’s lips travelled to Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun shivered every time Chanyeol’s warm breath fanned against his skin.

Baekhyun was certain that his husband could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest. But if Chanyeol noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply continued to kiss every inch of skin his lips could find, leaving damp marks on their wake.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun began breathlessly, “c-could you, um…” He trailed off, pointing to the growing hardness sprawled over his stomach.

Chanyeol chuckled softly. “I was getting to that.”

Chanyeol planted a quick kiss on Baekhyun’s lips before reaching to the nightstand and pulling out a blue bottle from the topmost drawer. He popped it open, squeezing a generous amount starting from Baekhyun’s stiff erection down to his tight hole. Baekhyun let out a small gasp when Chanyeol began spreading the lube around his hole with the tip of his finger.

“Ready?” said Chanyeol.

Baekhyun nodded weakly. Nothing has barely happened and yet he already feels lightheaded.

Chanyeol slid a finger in. He dipped the tip in first, slowly working Baekhyun open to accommodate more, then a finger became two, and not long after he had three, then four in while Baekhyun moaned loudly enough for the entire street to hear.

Baekhyun was itching to touch himself and release all the pent-up pleasure inside of him. Precum was beginning to pool on his stomach, but he held himself back, not wanting to end all this so soon, not when Chanyeol was making a conscious effort to be gentle with him like never before.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Baekhyun drawled when Chanyeol curled his fingers inside of him, hitting the spot that made his back arch. He was so close now. Just a little more… Just a little deeper…

But then Chanyeol abruptly pulled his fingers out. Baekhyun whined as his hole clenched around nothing, frustrated at the sudden emptiness. Chanyeol was now squeezing lube onto his right hand. He tossed the bottle aside, and then stroked himself until his cock was glistening with slick.

Baekhyun watched attentively as his husband prepped himself up. His breathing quickened the longer he stared at Chanyeol. His eye caught the tiniest of details: the thin shin of sweat beginning to form on Chanyeol’s forehead, the quiet moans that escaped his lips, the subtle shade of red rising on his husband’s cheeks. Baekhyun could look at Chanyeol all day pleasuring himself, but then he remembered his own growing need.

“You planning on sharing that?” Baekhyun jested. He meant to feign impatience, but his voice cracked ever so slightly so his question came off as begging.

Chanyeol smiled, revealing the dimple that Baekhyun always found endearing. “Alright, alright.” He crawled forward so that he was now hovering over Baekhyun. He kissed Baekhyun on the forehead, then on the tip of his nose, and then finally on the lips. When he pulled away and leaned backward, he slowly lifted Baekhyun’s right leg and let it rest on his shoulder. He stroked himself one last time and aligned his cock to Baekhyun’s entrance. “I’m going in now, okay?”

Baekhyun bit his lip as he nodded. Chanyeol sheathed himself in inch by inch. Baekhyun felt fuller and fuller by each second, letting out a deep, long moan when Chanyeol was finally all the way in.

Chanyeol stilled for a while, letting Baekhyun adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun panted, “just move. _Please_.”

Chanyeol obliged. He began thrusting languidly, allowing himself to slip completely out before sliding back in. At first it seemed that he was teasing, which wouldn’t be the first time, but it felt more like he was taking his sweet time, that he didn’t want this to end.

But at this moment, Baekhyun wanted more. He _needed_ more. He swung his right leg off Chanyeol’s shoulder and crossed it together with the left around Chanyeol’s waist to pull him closer and deeper.

He grabbed Chanyeol by the neck and kissed him hard, letting his tongue do things that he would normally be ashamed of. Baekhyun swallowed Chanyeol’s moans as they kissed. Chanyeol’s pace slightly picked up, but it was obvious that he was holding himself back. Baekhyun pulled away. “If you’re afraid of hurting me, don’t. I can handle it,” he said. “Please. I want you.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol whispered. His lips returned to Baekhyun’s at once. He thrusted harder and harder. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, indelicate whispers, and wet kisses.

Chanyeol found Baekhyun’s favourite spot again, sending the latter’s hips buckling upward.

“Chanyeol… _Ah_...” Baekhyun’s walls were clenching tighter and tighter. His moans were getting louder, too, and his throat felt raw from screaming Chanyeol’s name over and over. “I-I’m…”

“It’s okay, baby,” Chanyeol whispered in Baekhyun’s ear. “Come for me.”

And with that, Baekhyun unravelled. He spilled all over his stomach as Chanyeol continued to pound into him, his cock twitching every time Chanyeol’s hips smacked against his. Baekhyun felt weightless as he released.

Not long after, Chanyeol was also coming undone on top of him. Chanyeol’s arms quivered as he tried to continue supporting his weight while he came, a fresh string of profanities flying off his lips as he shot white-hot spurts into Baekhyun. With one last thrust, he crumbled, rolling onto Baekhyun’s side as they both caught their breaths.

Baekhyun turned his body so that he was now looking at his wrecked husband. “That was…”

“...nice,” Chanyeol finished for him.

“Yes.” Baekhyun couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the word.”

There was an inexplicable feeling rising in Baekhyun’s chest. He was tingling all over as though electricity was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at Chanyeol shining with afterglow.

This wasn’t the first time they’ve had sex, but it felt like the first time they’ve made love.

“Chanyeol?”

“Hmm?”

“No more asking me if I want to stay or to leave or whatever, okay?” Baekhyun said. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Baekhyun leaned forward and kissed Chanyeol. It wasn’t like the kiss they shared just moments ago — this was gentle, reassuring, barely even a kiss. And yet it warmed Baekhyun all the way through like he was drinking in sunlight.

After what quite some time, Chanyeol pulled away. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at Baekhyun with soft eyes, brushing his husband’s cheek with his calloused thumb.

“I wish you’d stop looking at me like that,” said Baekhyun, breaking the silence.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m wounded. Like you feel sorry for me.”

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows. “Have I been looking at you that way?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun replied. “All morning.”

Chanyeol took one of Baekhyun’s hands. For someone with such big hands, he had a touch as light as a feather. He brought Baekhyun’s hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on the back of it.

“I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun didn’t know what his husband was sorry for, but he was quite certain that it wasn’t just for one thing.

#  **Chapter Five**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

When March 14th came, it brought the promise of spring with it. The remnants of winter were thawing away and bathed everything in a dewlike glow. The world looked like it was sparkling. Lake Geum glittered under the midday sun as they drove into Pyeonghwa-ri. Chanyeol stole glances at Baekhyun from time to time, smiling to himself whenever he caught Baekhyun’s eyes twinkling as they took the scenery in. Chanyeol knew how much their yearly visit to Pyeonghwa-ri meant to Baekhyun — and for the first time in five years, he finally understood why.

Pyeonghwa-ri was a distraction. It was a once-in-a-year opportunity to escape their life in the city, to pretend that life could be peaceful, to live — even for just two short weeks — like it was them who chose this life.

“Do you think it’ll be too cold for a swim in the lake?” Baekhyun asked, breaking Chanyeol’s train of thought.

“At night, maybe. Or early in the morning,” replied Chanyeol. “Best time for a swim would be around noon, I think.”

Baekhyun hummed thoughtfully and then turned to continue looking out the window. The trees were growing thicker by the minute, and in no time, they could barely see the sky as they drove farther inland. Soon, the lake house came into view, its polished dark cedar exterior looking like it’d just been bought yesterday. Mr. Han, a middle-aged balding man who served house caretaker and estate gamekeeper, was already waiting for them on the porch.

“Mr. Park! Mr. Byun!” Mr. Han called as Chanyeol and Baekhyun came out of the car. He immediately rushed to the trunk to haul out their luggages. “Happy anniversary!”

Chanyeol usually winced whenever Mr. Han greeted them like that during their visits here, but this time around, he offered him a kind smile. “Thank you, Mr. Han. Thank you for also taking care of the house when we’re not here.”

“Ah, it’s my pleasure, sir,” said Mr. Han with a genuine warmth in his voice.

The lake house had been a wedding gift from Chanyeol’s father. It had been in their family for years, a summer home that was never really used. Mr. Park passed the estate’s ownership to Chanyeol after he got married to Baekhyun, and now, every March 14th, two other living people aside from Mr. Han get to roam around its halls.

“The drive must’ve been exhausting,” Mr. Han said to no one in particular as they entered the house.

As though right on cue, Baekhyun let out a loud yawn. “Haven’t really noticed until now,” he said sheepishly.

Mr. Han chuckled. “Would you like to have a meal after freshening up? My son and I caught a nice big deer while making rounds in the woods this morning. Not to mention I make a decent braised venison.”

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun before answering. Baekhyun could barely keep his eyes open, and although the braised venison did sound tempting, it was obvious that he needed to catch some z’s first. “That sounds great, Mr. Han,” Chanyeol said, “but we’re pretty beat. Maybe save the venison for dinner? Around eight o’clock?”

“Alright, sir,” the gamekeeper replied. “Have a good rest.” And then he left the couple to themselves.

“You still remember him, right?” Chanyeol asked his husband when they were finally in the master bedroom, unpacking. (Well, Baekhyun was unpacking; Chanyeol was unhelpfully looking at him from the bed.)

Baekhyun playfully rolled his eyes at him. “Yes, I do. Didn’t he have hair before?”

“He did have some, yeah,” Chanyeol laughed. He almost forgot how funny Baekhyun could be at times. “I wonder what happened to him in the past year? We don’t visit for one anniversary and suddenly he’s gone bald.”

Baekhyun froze at that statement. A look of pain flashed through his features. He frowned, furrowing his eyebrows — an expression he made when he wanted to remember something but couldn’t. “We didn’t… We didn’t come last year?”

“N-no. We didn’t.” Chanyeol’s throat went dry suddenly. “You were in the hospital.”

“Oh. Right.” Baekhyun didn’t say anything else and continued to unpack, but Chanyeol could tell that his mind was somewhere else.

Unsure of what else to say (and he didn’t really want to say anything else, anyway), Chanyeol stood up from the bed and walked towards his husband. “I’ll go ahead and shower,” he said, planting a soft kiss on Baekhyun’s temple. “You can join me if you like.”

“Tempting,” Baekhyun said teasingly, “but no thanks. If we shower together, God knows when we’ll finish.”

“And why is that?”

“Oh, just shut up and shower, Chanyeol.”

Chuckling, Chanyeol finally made his way to the bathroom. The smile on his face almost immediately vanished the second he was alone. The past week had been amazing — easily the best week he and Baekhyun have had in their five-year marriage — but the gnawing guilt in his chest remained, the guilt that he’d tried so hard to ignore, the guilt he’d been carrying since Baekhyun’s accident.

It also didn’t make sense that his nightmares were getting more and more vivid, not when he and Baekhyun had finally stopped walking on eggshells. Or perhaps it was his subconscious reminding him that he didn’t have the right to feel this way about Baekhyun — especially after all the pain he’d caused him.

Chanyeol stood there under the shower and closed his eyes. The warm water soothed his aching muscles from the four-hour drive, but it did nothing to untangle the knot forming in his heart.

He was finally happy with Baekhyun. But why did every bone in his body tell him that he didn’t deserve it?

Chanyeol was reeled back into reality when he heard the bathroom door click open. Through the steam-covered glass of the shower stall, he could see the silhouette of his husband undressing slowly. When Baekhyun finally opened the glass door to the shower, his eyes were gleaming with something Chanyeol couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I thought you didn’t want to shower with me.”

“I guess I’m indecisive, then.”

Chanyeol didn’t have the time to respond to his husband’s snarky comment as Baekhyun put his hands on the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Chanyeol’s surprise was overpowered by the butterflies chasing each other in his stomach. Without realising it, his hands found their way onto Baekhyun’s waist, and he was drawing his husband closer and closer until the space between their bodies became non-existent. The sound of their satisfied sighs whenever they broke apart echoed off the walls of the bathroom, with the pattering of the shower filling in the silence when their lips met once more.

Chanyeol drew a sharp intake of breath when Baekhyun’s hand settled on his growing erection. Without pulling away from the kiss, Baekhyun played with him — a little unsure at first, barely grazing Chanyeol’s length with the pads of his fingers, until his soft hands finally enclosed around his husband’s hardness. Slow strokes morphed into swift ones. In no time, Chanyeol was panting and pleading, profanities adding to the list of lewd sounds reverberating around the bathroom.

“Baekhyun… S-stop…” Chanyeol begged, but the thrust of his hips into his husband’s hand said otherwise. “Please… Want… Inside… You…” It was embarrassing how Baekhyun’s hands were enough for him to spiral into bliss.

Despite Chanyeol’s incoherent mumblings, Baekhyun seemed to have understood what he was saying; he let go of Chanyeol’s throbbing cock. “Where do you want me?” Baekhyun whispered.

“Turn around,” replied Chanyeol in a hoarse voice.

Baekhyun happily obliged. He arched his back ever so slightly, which made Chanyeol want him even more.

But Chanyeol was determined to take his time. He leaned forward and kissed Baekhyun’s back, then his shoulders, then his neck. Baekhyun’s sighs sounded immaculate. Chills ran through his spine every time Baekhyun whispered his name in that sweet voice of his — a sound that Chanyeol wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

He worked Baekhyun open with a finger, and then two, and then three… And when Baekhyun’s entire body was quivering from pleasure he withdrew his hand, replacing it with his cock pulsating with need. They moaned together as Chanyeol buried himself deeper and deeper, only stopping when he couldn’t go any further.

“So… good,” said Baekhyun in a breathless undertone, his head resting against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. “You feel so good inside me.”

They made love like that, with Chanyeol taking Baekhyun from behind, muttering praises in his ear and Baekhyun responding by moaning Chanyeol’s name in the most amorous way possible. Chanyeol’s fingers sank into Baekhyun’s skin as he held him in place to keep them both from slipping, and he was sure that they were going to leave a mark.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun whispered shakily. His legs were wobbling now, clearly about to give up from pleasure.

“Need help, baby?”

Without giving his husband a chance to answer, Chanyeol reached out and stroked Baekhyun, soliciting sensual screams from the latter. Soon, Baekhyun was spilling into Chanyeol’s hand and into the wall; he was trembling from head to toe. Chanyeol followed suit not long after, releasing inside Baekhyun, his nails digging crescents into his husband’s soft skin. His come dribbled out of Baekhyun’s hole as he pulled out, streaks of white now coming down Baekhyun’s thigh.

For a moment, all that could be heard was them catching their breaths and the continuous stream of water from the shower.

“We’ve wasted so much water,” Baekhyun chuckled incredulously, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“Too bad we have to shower for real now.”

***

On their sixth day in Pyeonghwa-ri, they were awakened by a storm thrashing against the walls of the lake house. Baekhyun’s plans for a swim in the lake were thwarted yet again (this time by natural causes and not by Chanyeol pulling him back to bed), but Baekhyun’s mood didn’t seem to dampen. If anything, he looked happier to Chanyeol. And Chanyeol couldn’t blame him. Not even a storm could ruin their most perfect anniversary trip yet.

They spent the afternoon digging up old stuff around the house: Chanyeol’s father’s old rowing trophies, board games that looked like they haven’t been played in decades, photo albums that were tattered around the edges.

Unearthing old memorabilia gave Chanyeol the realisation that he and Baekhyun didn’t have things like that. The only photo album they’d ever owned was one from their wedding, and that wasn’t a particularly happy affair. And just like that, the guilt was back again, eating more and more away from Chanyeol’s heart. What would he and Baekhyun look back on when they grow old? If they did grow old, would they even be together? Would Baekhyun even remember him then, or would his memory fade even further?

It was thoughts like this that truly ruined an otherwise perfect vacation for Chanyeol. It was as though he was self-sabotaging his own happiness because he knew deep down that he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

But all that self-doubt seemed to fade away when Baekhyun looked at him like he has never done anything wrong in his life. When Baekhyun smiled, Chanyeol felt like everything was okay — that it all always has been. But when he was alone with his thoughts, the guilt creeped back, numbing his mind, making him feel like maybe Kyungsoo was right: Baekhyun deserved better. Baekhyun deserved someone better than Chanyeol.

“Hey.” Baekhyun’s gentle voice pulled Chanyeol back into the present. “Why are you staring into the fireplace and acting all broody?”

“Broody? That’s not a word.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure it is,” Baekhyun laughed. He set down the mugs of hot chocolate he was holding onto the wooden coffee table, snuggling against Chanyeol’s warmth as he settled into the couch. “Seriously, though, what were you thinking of?”

Chanyeol stared back at the fireplace. “Just… things,” he replied vaguely.

“What things?” Baekhyun insisted.

Chanyeol sighed, conceding that Baekhyun was not going to stop until he got an answer. “Life. You, me… It’s just… I don’t want this vacation to end.”

“Why not?”

 _Because we’re happy now_ , Chanyeol wanted to say. _Because for once in my life, I’m not lying to you._ But of course, he couldn’t tell his husband that, so instead, he just answered, “I don’t know. I like living here. It’s quiet. Don’t you?”

“I do,” said Baekhyun, his voice almost a whisper. “But I like it here because I’m with you.”

Chanyeol turned to look at his husband, hoping that he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. “I wish we could’ve lived like this before.”

“Why?” Baekhyun asked. “What were we like before?”

Chanyeol stared into his husband’s eyes. He wondered how many things they’d seen — how many things they’d forgotten. He didn’t know if he should be thankful that Baekhyun remembered only things from before he woke up in the hospital, that Baekhyun didn’t have to relive the pain of remembering what made him drive away that night, what really caused that accident. But he knew that it wasn’t right. It felt like he was still fooling Baekhyun by not telling him things that he should know.

At the same time, however, he didn’t want to tell Baekhyun. He wanted him to continue living like he was right now: warm, happy, a million miles away from memories of Chanyeol’s unfaithfulness.

“Do you remember our first date?”

Baekhyun thought about it for a moment. “First date as in our first _real_ date or the first date our parents set for us?”

“The second one.”

“Oh, yeah. At The Harbour, right? Before we got married. We were watching the sunset, I think.”

“And we were talking shit about our parents — the people who set that date in the first place.”

Baekhyun laughed his annoying little laugh, and Chanyeol regretted not making him laugh more often. It was the most endearing sound he’d ever heard. “Well, nothing brings people closer than mutual hate,” said Baekhyun.

“I think arranged marriages come in pretty close,” Chanyeol quipped.

Baekhyun chuckled once more. “You know, I used to hate this whole… arrangement.”

“And you hate it a little less now?”

“I don’t hate it at all,” Baekhyun answered. “There’s this quote in _The Alchemist_ that I really like. ‘ _I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you._ ’”

Chanyeol was paralyzed for a moment. Neither of them said anything for a few heartbeats, and all that could be heard was the pitter-patter of the rain against the window and the crackling of the wood from the fireplace. Chanyeol and Baekhyun stared at each other for what felt like forever.

Of course, Chanyeol understood his husband was merely quoting a book. But it was the first time he’d ever heard Baekhyun say ‘ _I love you_ ’ out loud — it was the first time either of them voiced such a sentence. Chanyeol had said it before, or rather, had written in before. Hearing it from Baekhyun’s lips was a different matter altogether; Chanyeol felt warm all over, and he was pretty sure that the fire in front of them didn’t have anything to do with it.

“You love me?”

Baekhyun smiled impishly. “Well, I was reciting Paulo Coelho, but yes Park Chanyeol. I love you.”

Chanyeol felt like he was floating. _So, this is what it feels like_ , he told himself. _This is what it feels like to be loved._

He leaned forward, and before he connected his lips to Baekhyun’s, he whispered, “I love you too, Byun Baekhyun.”

***

Life had an odd sense of humour. It had a way of making one feel safe and happy before letting all the worst things come crashing down all at once — the calm before the storm.

For Chanyeol, that was precisely what the past few weeks had been like. He’d never been happier in his life now that he could freely admit to himself and to everyone else that he loved Baekhyun. But at the same time, he knew that something bad was bound to happen, a misfortune just lurking around the corner of his short-lived happiness, all the mistakes he’d made over the course of the last five years finally catching up to him. Still, he wasn’t ready when it came.

It was Friday. Baekhyun was out with Jongdae, and although their weekly escapades were no longer necessary because Chanyeol no longer stayed out on Fridays, the habit stuck. And so Chanyeol came home at around nine o’clock to an empty house.

He has had five meetings throughout the day, and he was exhausted. After a quick shower, he made a beeline for the bed, eager to sleep the day off and to wake up the next morning to a smiling Baekhyun.

But then his leg hit something as he was about to sit on the mattress. The bottommost drawer of the nightstand was ajar. At that moment, Chanyeol knew that he had stumbled on something that he should leave alone. This was Baekhyun’s side of the bed, and whatever was inside that drawer was surely meant for Baekhyun only.

But Chanyeol’s curiosity got the best of him. He hadn’t really paid much attention to what Baekhyun kept in their bedroom, but something was drawing him closer to the half-open drawer. It was as though it was inviting him to open it further, to take out whatever was inside, to see it for himself. And so he did. He bent over and pulled the drawer open, revealing a stack of journals messily piled on top of the other.

He’d seen Baekhyun write on one of these things many years ago, in the early days of their marriage. It didn’t intrigue him at the time because he had lukewarm feelings about his husband then, but now that they were in a different phase of their relationship, Chanyeol was itching to read whatever was written on the pages. He took the yellow notebook with spiral binds sitting at the very top of the pile and opened it.

> _April 4th — I became a piano teacher. Jinseo’s quite a talented kid, but he seems to doubt himself a lot. He reminds me of my younger self._
> 
> _July 1st — I tried to stay awake for as long as I could because I didn’t want to forget. But Chanyeol came home drunk and got mad when he saw me still up. We must’ve had a fight yesterday or something, because he was in a terribly sour mood even before he saw me, but I can’t remember…_
> 
> _December 6th - Chanyeol was home the whole day and helped me decorate the house for Christmas. He bought blue ornaments for the tree, and I loved how it turned out because blue’s my favourite colour. He hugged me while I was doing the dishes and then we kissed and… Needless to say, it was a good day._
> 
> _December 19th — Chanyeol’s phone rang while he was in the shower. It was just a number, so I didn’t know who it was. When I told them it was his husband speaking, they dropped the call. Curious…_
> 
> _December 24th — Bad day. Chanyeol told me he won’t be home tomorrow, and I got mad because, well, it’s Christmas. Horrible fight. He stormed out. I guess I’ll be spending Christmas all alone._
> 
> _January 1st — Went out with Jongdae. Drank in one of those little tents in the back streets. I only drank a little, but Jongdae had way too much. He said something horrible… that Chanyeol is cheating on me…_

Chanyeol felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. _Baekhyun knew. He knew all along_. But the pain he was feeling right now was dialled up to a hundred when he read the journal entries starting from February 12th.

> _February 12th — Chanyeol is cheating on me._
> 
> _February 13th — Chanyeol is cheating on me._
> 
> _February 15th — Chanyeol is cheating on me._
> 
> _February 18th — Chanyeol is cheating on me._
> 
> _February 23rd — Chanyeol is cheating on me._
> 
> _March 3rd — Chanyeol is cheating on me._

The same five words were written over and over and over until March 13th, the day before they left for Pyeonghwa-ri. It was as though Baekhyun was reminding himself so that the next time he would open his journal, he would know. How did Baekhyun ever sleep with that kind of pain lingering in his chest?

The next entry was written the night they got back from their anniversary trip.

> _March 28th — Chanyeol loves me._

Baekhyun hadn’t written anything since.

Chanyeol stared at the notebook for quite some time. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as his husband’s pain was bared for him to see, etched in black and white. He couldn’t imagine Baekhyun forgetting all the bad things from the previous day the moment he woke up, only to be reminded of them by himself at the end of the day. He was hurting Baekhyun every single day, even on the good days that they had.

In a moment of clarity, Chanyeol finally understood what he must do — what he should have done a long time ago but didn’t have the courage to.

He grabbed the notepad where he would write his morning notes to his husband and wrote the most heart-breaking sentence he’d ever written in his life.

****

* * *

**_BAEKHYUN_ **

****

“Are you all done?” Kyungsoo asked as he peeked from out the bedroom door.

Baekhyun looked around the empty room. All signs that the bedroom had once belonged to him and his husband was now gone: Chanyeol’s work desk at the corner of the room was now just a wooden table, the closet that had once hung their clothes was cleared, and the bed they once shared was now stripped bare.

“Yes,” Baekhyun replied. “All done.”

“Alright. I’ll be outside. Whenever you’re ready.”

But Baekhyun didn’t think he'd ever be ready to leave the house he’d lived in for five years. There was so much he couldn’t remember, and yet every nook and cranny of the house seemed to whisper to him: _Don’t go._

Baekhyun pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. Sprawled on the page in his husband’s handwriting was the most difficult sentence he’d ever read in his life.

> _Today, we’re getting a divorce._
> 
> _— Chanyeol_

He couldn’t remember the morning when he first saw this waiting for him on the nightstand. Kyungsoo told him that it had been four months since the divorce proceedings started. Maybe this note was as old as that, perhaps even more.

Baekhyun had trouble adjusting to his new reality. Sometimes, when he woke up, he would be confused as to why he was in a different bedroom, in a different house, with a different man beside him. But Kyungsoo never got angry at him for it. Kyungsoo was kind, patient, everything that Baekhyun could ask for and more. But Kyungsoo wasn’t Chanyeol. And even though there were many things that Baekhyun couldn’t understand, he was a hundred percent sure that he loved Chanyeol. So why was all of this happening?

Baekhyun stared at Chanyeol’s last note, reading it over and over again. It still didn’t feel real. He could recognise his husband’s handwriting from a mile away, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept that Chanyeol had written this.

 _He wanted to remember._ He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. He wanted to understand. He wanted to know how all of this began, what he did wrong, what couldn’t be fixed, why it was so easy for Chanyeol to give up on him.

But at the same time, he felt like he already knew. Whenever he thought of Chanyeol, he would remember good things — the lake house, that day when they decorated the house blue for Christmas, the sunsets they’d watched together at The Harbour. But there was pain, too. An incredible amount of pain. But he couldn’t remember exactly what Chanyeol did to hurt him this much.

He sat on the bare bed and looked around the empty room once more. He didn’t know when the tears came. All he knew was that this room had once been his and Chanyeol’s, and now it was no one’s.

***

“Baekhyun, if you could sign here, please,” a voice snaps Baekhyun out of his daydream.

It was Mr. Ji, the divorce lawyer his parents got for him. He was pointing at a space at the bottom of a lengthy document. Baekhyun had almost forgotten where he was right now. He stared at the piece of paper that was about to change his life. He didn’t remember how he got here, but there he was, sitting in that conference room with a handful of lawyers looking at him, his soon to be ex-husband sitting across from him.

“Run me through it again,” Baekhyun said in an empty voice. He didn’t even recognise it as his own — it sounded like it was made by someone far away. In truth, he didn’t want to hear whatever was in that document. He’d read it on their way over. He was simply buying time to be Chanyeol’s husband for a little longer.

Mr. Ji cleared his throat and began to read from the document. “The marital home will be sold, and profits will be evenly distributed among both parties. Any joint bank accounts will be dissolved, and any remaining balance will be evenly distributed among both parties. The lake house located at Pyeonghwa-ri will be considered as neutral property and will remain under both parties’ names, and either party can visit it anytime they wish.”

Baekhyun looked at Chanyeol. Chanyeol had not spared him a single glance since he entered the room, and now he was still adamant on ignoring Baekhyun’s gaze as he looked out the window.

Baekhyun wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Chanyeol’s collar and yell at his face to demand an explanation for what was happening. But he was tired. So tired — from not remembering, from going through all of this, from everything. He wanted it to be over. But he didn’t want to lose Chanyeol. And he couldn’t have both.

He grabbed the pen Mr. Ji was offering him and clicked it open. He looked at Chanyeol one last time, but Chanyeol’s eyes were still fixed on the view outside. Sighing, Baekhyun finally signed the agreement. He’d been expecting to feel something — pain, regret, anger. But all he felt was empty and numb, like all emotion had been drained from his body.

“Are we done here?” asked Baekhyun impatiently as he began to rise from his seat.

Chanyeol finally turned to look at him, but Baekhyun couldn’t quite make out what his eyes seemed to say. “I think we are,” Chanyeol said. He stood up and extended his hand for Baekhyun to shake.

Baekhyun didn’t want to take it. He wanted to ignore Chanyeol like how Chanyeol had ignored him the entire time they were in this room. But he didn’t know when he’d be able to touch Chanyeol again — if there would be even a next time. And so he accepted Chanyeol’s handshake. When they let go, Baekhyun could swear that he felt the phantom of Chanyeol’s fingers linger on his hand a little longer.

“Thank you, Baekhyun. For everything.”

Baekhyun didn’t know how to respond, and his throat felt incredibly dry, so he merely nodded. He left the room without another word, Mr. Ji trailing behind him. He was halfway through the elevator when he heard heavy footsteps approaching him, the sound of someone running.

He whisked around and saw Chanyeol holding what looked like a letter in his hands. Wordlessly, Chanyeol put the envelope in Baekhyun’s hands. And with one last look at his ex-husband, Chanyeol ran back to the opposite end of the hall.

***

That night, when Kyungsoo finally fell asleep, Baekhyun slipped out of bed and went downstairs, clutching the envelope that Chanyeol had given him this morning. He padded to the kitchen and made himself some tea. With trembling fingers, Baekhyun tore the envelope open and pulled out the folded paper inside, unfurling the letter gingerly. He began to read.

> _August 22nd_
> 
> _Hi, Baek._
> 
> _The past couple of months have been hard, haven’t they?_
> 
> _I’m sorry for… all of this. You must be confused. You must have a million questions running through your mind. And I can’t answer all of them. I’m sorry._
> 
> _That’s all I wanted to say in this letter, really. That I’m sorry. You won’t remember the things that I’ve done, and maybe that’s a small mercy God has given you. To save you some pain at least to a certain degree. To give you a fresh start every day without remembering the pain you’ve felt yesterday. To make you forget how much I’ve hurt you. You may not remember, but I have hurt you. So many times. More times than either of us can count. And I don’t want to anymore._
> 
> _I just wanted to let you know that none of this was ever your fault. This marriage may not have been started by either of us, but it was me who had caused it to end, just when things were getting better. If only I had the courage to stop running away from my problems instead of dragging you into them. If only I had admitted to myself sooner that there’s nothing I love more in the world than you. Then maybe we stood a chance. Maybe you won’t be reading this letter. Maybe we’ll be back at the lake house, finally going for a swim in the lake like you wanted the last time we were there._
> 
> _But I’m a coward, Baek. That’s what I am. And I’m sorry that I’m not brave enough to tell you all of this to your face, because I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to get the words out. I don’t want to look at you and see nothing but how much I’ve hurt you — how much I still am. And I know that no words will ever be enough for everything that I’ve cost you._
> 
> _I’m sorry that you met me. I wish I could give you back the life you had before we met. I wish you could’ve met someone who really deserved you instead of me. But maybe now you have a chance. And this is me giving you that chance. I know I can’t turn back time, but I can give you this. I choose to give you this because it’s what you deserve._
> 
> _I love you. It just took me a while to realise it, but I do. When I look back at the past five years, I realise now how happy I was. It was just me who didn’t want to admit it then, so I kept searching and searching for useless things that I thought would bring me happiness without realising that all along it was just you. You were enough. And yet I didn’t want to believe it._
> 
> _I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’m sorry for this, too. I’m not really good with words. I never have been. But I hope you understand the essence of this letter, at least — that I have loved you even when I didn’t know it yet, and that I will love you long after you’ve forgotten me._
> 
> _Thank you, Baek. And, for the last time, let me say this: I love you, you amnesiac._
> 
> _— Chanyeol_

Baekhyun cried until the sun came, his tea sitting forgotten on the dining table. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to forget Chanyeol.

#  **Epilogue**

****

* * *

**_CHANYEOL_ **

****

Chanyeol had been so used to living alone that he first thought that he was hearing things when he heard voices coming from the living room.

He’d been staying at the lake house for the past week and Mr. Han never came inside the house to bother him in any way whatsoever. That was why he was surprised to see Mr. Han hauling someone’s luggage into the house and…

“Baekhyun.”

His ex-husband looked up at him from the living room. “Hello, Chanyeol. Mr. Han was just telling me that you were home.”

Chanyeol went downstairs slowly. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he was still dreaming. But the closer he got, the more he realised that he wasn’t hallucinating, that Baekhyun was really there, smiling at him.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Baekhyun gave him a curious look. “I thought the lake house was ‘neutral property’? Or am I remembering that incorrectly?”

“No, no,” Chanyeol assured him right away. “You’re right. It’s just… I didn’t expect you to… You could’ve given me a heads up.”

Baekhyun smiled at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I always come here on...” _Our anniversary,_ Chanyeol wanted to continue, but he trailed off. They no longer had an anniversary, he realised. So instead, he just asked, “What brings you here?”

“I’m not really sure,” answered Baekhyun. “I just… I woke up this morning and I wanted to come here. So here I am.”

Chanyeol glanced at the suitcase Mr. Han was holding. “You’re staying here for the night?” he asked. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps it was because it had been years since he last saw his ex-husband — that day when they’d finalised their divorce agreement and he handed his letter to Baekhyun.

“Two nights, actually,” Baekhyun said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

“It is,” Chanyeol replied a little too eagerly. “I mean, this is your house too.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

From the corner of his eye, Chanyeol could see Mr. Han looking back and forth between him and Baekhyun. He cleared his throat awkwardly and proceeded to say, “I’ll be at my cabin if you two need me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Han,” Baekhyun said.

And with that, the two of them were alone.

Chanyeol’s heartbeat was drumming in his ears. He felt stupid for feeling this way around Baekhyun, someone he’d shared a bed with for five years, but his heart seemed to have a mind of his own as it continued to thrash.

“So...” he began lamely.

Baekhyun chuckled. “Why are you so awkward around me? It’s been five years, Chanyeol. I’m okay. I forgive you.”

Chanyeol blinked at him. “You… remember?”

“Well, not exactly, but… I read your last letter on my way over.” Baekhyun took his hand and ruffled his hair (which was now dyed back to black), and Chanyeol did not miss the gold band on his ring finger — and it wasn’t the ring he gave him ten years ago.

“Who’s the lucky man?” Chanyeol asked with a strained smile on his lips which he hoped Baekhyun wouldn’t notice.

“You know him,” replied Baekhyun.

“Kyungsoo?”

Baekhyun nodded.

“Oh. That’s… That’s great. I’m happy for the two of you.”

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said. If he noticed the insincerity in Chanyeol’s tone, he didn’t say anything about it. “How ‘bout you? Any lucky guys… or girls?”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but laugh. “No, not really. I’m… learning how to be okay with just myself.”

“That’s wonderful, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun told him, and it was nothing short of genuine. “Now, can we finally go for a swim in the lake?”

Chanyeol laughed. All the years seemed to melt away from his and Baekhyun’s faces. It was as though the past five years never happened. “Okay,” replied Chanyeol.

***

“Look what I found.” Baekhyun held up a familiar blue vinyl case — Nat King Cole’s _Unforgettable._

Chanyeol stood up and took the record from Baekhyun’s hands. “God, where did you unearth this fossil?”

“I found it in the attic. I was looking for your baby photos and I found this instead,” Baekhyun explained. “Is it an original?”

“I think so, yeah. I remember Dad collecting vinyls when I was a kid. Didn’t think of them until tonight, though.”

Baekhyun snatched back the case. “I wonder if it still works…” He padded towards the old turntable sitting on an accent table at the corner of the living room. He lifted the tone arm, placed the record on the platter, and soon, music was flowing throughout the living room.

_‘Unforgettable  
That’s what you are  
Unforgettable  
Though near or far…’_

“My parents used to dance to this,” Chanyeol said suddenly. His voice sounded misty, thick of nostalgia. “I think this was the first song I’ve heard in my life. Too bad they ruined the memory for me.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Baekhyun said. He held out his hand like someone would when asking a person for a dance. “Can I have this dance, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol smiled despite rolling his eyes. He took Baekhyun’s hand and said, “It would be an honour, Mr. Byun.”

_‘Like a song of love that clings to me  
How the thought of you does things to me  
Never before  
Has someone been more…’_

They danced to the sweet, mellow music, and Chanyeol wanted time to stop. He wanted to freeze in that moment, to be this close to Baekhyun forever, to stare into his eyes until the end of time.

“Chanyeol, I have to tell you something.”

_‘Unforgettable  
In every way  
And forever more  
That’s how you’ll stay…’_

The thumping in Chanyeol’s heart that he felt yesterday when he first saw Baekhyun was back. Judging from Baekhyun’s tone, whatever he was about to say couldn’t be good.

“What is it?”

“I… I was lying when I said I didn’t know you’d be here,” said Baekhyun. “I’ve kept in touch with Mr. Han, and he mentioned that you always come here on our previous… anniversary. I was hoping to see you. For the last time.”

“The… last time?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun replied, his voice almost a whisper. “Kyungsoo had been offered work in New York and… I just wanted to say goodbye, I guess.”

“When are you leaving?” Chanyeol was struggling to keep his voice straight.

“Tomorrow. I go straight to the airport from here.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. They continued to dance, the fireplace making their bodies cast shadows on the wall, and their silhouettes danced their final dance with them.

Chanyeol wanted the world to stop spinning. He wanted to stay like this with Baekhyun forever, this song never ceasing to end. But the world continued to rotate, and the record continued to turn. When the song ends, when this night is over, when Chanyeol opens his eyes tomorrow… Baekhyun wouldn’t be here.

And Chanyeol could do nothing but accept that fact.

“Thank you, Baekhyun,” he said, “for coming to say goodbye.”

Baekhyun smiled — but it was a wistful one, full of sadness, full of regret. “I’ll never forget you, you know. I’ll always be your amnesiac.”

_‘That’s why, darling, it’s incredible  
That someone so unforgettable  
Thinks that I am  
Unforgettable too…’_


End file.
